Cannons
by Wintertrain
Summary: Finnick's little sister, Nimiane, is suddenly thrown into the Hunger Games. Although her legacy causes people to believe her to be victorious in the end, will the story really go that way?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I guess I should tell you this before I go any further: My mom won the 49th Hunger Games while unknowingly pregnant with my brother.

She was eighteen, and she had a fling with her boyfriend – my father – only a few weeks before the Games. She went in, luckily not damaging my older brother, and came out a victor. But she was somewhat mentally tortured because of it. She didn't find out she was pregnant until the long days of malevolence ended, and she was worried she had lost her precious gift of life. My father worried too. But he came out, unscathed. Mother and Father got married after she came back from the Games. She died a few years after I was born.

I was born four years after Finnick, seeing him participate in the 65th Hunger Games when I was only ten. He came out untouched, just like when Mom went in. He was thrust into immediate fame and fortune, and it really was a blessing. Dad could barely keep us on our feet, since Mom's fortune had been spent long ago.

"Nimiane, come on," Finnick whines as we walk through the square of District Four. "We need to get going! The reaping doesn't wait on just anyone, Nimiane."

"Hold your horses," I say, trying my best to match his long strides. I may love Finnick, but, damn, he's irritable sometimes.

"We're almost there, sis. Lets pick it up!"

"I can't pick it up any more than I am!" I yell.

We reach the section for fifteen year olds. "Is Dad coming?" Finnick asks, getting ready to take off again.

"I would imagine so, since he'd be arrested if not present," I say, matter-of-factly. "You know the rules."

"Oh, okay. I'll look for him." He leaves me to myself and a big crowd of people, most of which I don't know.

I sigh. Alone again. _Just like when Mom died_, I think to myself.

I feel a small tap on my shoulder. I turn my head to look behind me. Nothing.

Huh?

I turn back around to Ingrid's face in front of mine. I jump.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Ing," I say, breathing heavily.

"It's what I do best," she says sarcastically as she walks to my side. "Finnick going up again?"

"Always will until the day he dies or until someone takes his place," I remind her.

"Oh, yeah. I always forget." She straightens her dress and looks at the wooden stage. "It's so hard to believe that only five years ago, your brother was reaped. Isn't that crazy?" She turns to a random person beside her. "It's crazy, right?"

"I've gotten used to the idea," I say, looking up at my handsome brother. He got all the looks. I got some of it, sure, but not nearly as much as this made-for-the-capitol-man. He could pretty much get any girl to love him, just by one look.

Of course, I'm the exception to that.

I know the odds are surely in my favor. My name is in the reaping bowl less than ten times, out of thousands. I'm sure I won't get in. And they've already gotten two Odairs. Why take another?

"I'm so nervous," Ingrid says, wiping the sweat off of her hands and onto her dress. "This year is going to be bad. I can feel it."

"I can't," I say, not really paying attention. Instead, I stare at the monstrosity onstage, a woman named Lyon Finkle. She looks normal enough, except for her gleaming skin and the large tattoo of a flower that covers her face. "But it seems Lyon can't tell what's bad, since she got that tattoo."

"I think it's pretty," Ingrid murmurs.

Sometimes I worry about good old Ingrid.

Lyon steps up to the microphone. "Let's get this show on the road!" she shouts, expecting the audience to cheer. We all stay silent. Finnick catches my eye and gives me a weak smile. I hold up my hand so he can see and cross my fingers.

The Mayor takes the microphone and recites all the required documents by memory – he's been in the position for that long. Lyon looks bored at first, but then becomes suddenly eager as she jumps up and skips over to the two bowls, filled with each and every name belonging to District Four's teenagers.

Ingrid grabs my hand and squeezes. I squeeze back. Lyon reaches a manicured hand into the bowl with girls names in it – I can tell because I am close enough to see some names but they are slightly blurred. She mixes the papers around and then snatches the one that she feels is right.

"And the girl tribute for District Four in the 70th Hunger Games is…" she says, squinting to read the name, "Nimiane Odair!"

A sudden whisper goes around the crowd of people. I feel Ingrid squeezing my hand, and I can hear her crying. I can't bear to look her in the eye. I remorsefully let go of her calming palms and trudge up to the stage.

I struggle to get up the wooden steps, a sudden fatigue overcoming me. Finnick is furiously speaking to Lyon, grabbing the piece of paper to make sure this isn't a hoax. "It has to be a set-up!" he shouts, coming to my side as I take my place onstage. "Three Odairs is just not fair!"

Lyon shrugs. "I guess you guys have bad luck, then. That's what you get when you were developing during a Hunger Games."

Finnick takes my hand. "She's not going in. I won't let you take her."

"That's not your decision, Finnick. It's her or a volunteer," she says, smirking.

He turns to the crowd. "Please!" Finnick shouts. "Someone, save my sister!"

"No," I say, turning him so he looks me in the eye. "If this is what I'm cut out for in life, I'll do it. You can't fight my battles for me, Finn. You've gone through this. Who knows? I could come back alive."

Finnick tries to resist my argument. "I won't be happy if someone dies for me, you know. I'd stop trying to save my soul, and let me do what I think is right," I say.

"You think _this_ is right?" he says, waving his arms in the air. "This inhumane act upon society? I want you out!"

"No. I'm staying."

Lyon seems to be eating up our conversation. "Volunteers?" she asks, sarcastically. "No one? Okay. Finnick, sit back down." He unhappily does so.

The crowd is silent. I can hear only the sound of my heartbeat and Finnick's brooding thoughts. Lyon reaches her hand into the other bowl, filed with the names of boys. She pulls out the small slip of paper. "The boy tribute is Remington Lore!"

Oh, god. The richest boy in town, forced to fight for his easy life. Remington is nice and all, but something about him sets me on edge. I don't know. Maybe it's his former relationship with Ingrid or his ways with people. But being stuck with him for days isn't going to make me happy.

The boy with the normal bronze hair and sea green eyes comes onstage, not even fazed. He stands next to me. "Well, speaking of the devil," he randomly says. I don't ask him what he means.

The Mayor takes the microphone again, and unenthusiastically closes the program. The crowd files out as Remington and I stand awkwardly. Finnick is still angry. As soon as Lyon and the Mayor are out of earshot, he comes over to me and says, "That was ultimately stupid," he says. "You could have gotten out. People would have volunteered. They would have saved you!"

"Listen, I know you want me here, far away from the Capitol and all, but this is my battle. I was thrown into this, not you. And, whether you like it or not, I'm fighting this one for myself," I say, my volume increasing. I can tell Remington is listening, but I don't care. "Mom would have let you stay in the Games. She knew that you had to do things your own way, and that you have to do things yourself sometimes. Unlike you," I add.

"Mom isn't here. She couldn't stop me. I had no one, and you do. If she was here, she would have done everything for me. For you, too," he says, bitterly turning away. "I'll meet you on the train," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**AN: Okay, so, if any of you read the first chapter before I updated it, I meant to say 40****th**** Hunger Games, not 50****th****. And thank you, BubblesThePowerPunk, for pointing it out, because I didn't catch that at aaaaaaall. And, by the way, if you want to submit a tribute, feel free, since I am in a need for them.**

Peacekeepers come to guide Remington and I to City Hall, where we will be saying our goodbyes. The tall, superior building is the only one in the whole district that has walls not made from the land. Its marble walls are far nicer than the wooden shack we lived in before Finnick won the games.

I try to focus my attention on the details of City Hall, because I might not ever come back and because I will do practically anything to avoid Remington's charm. Sure, the guy is not half bad. Sure, he'd be an ideal friend. But breaking Ingrid's heart does not exactly go down well in my book. And acting all buddy-buddy to her the next day doesn't cut it, either.

"In here," one of the Peacekeepers barks. I'm not reluctant to walk into my private room, and away from everyone else. I sit on a plush couch in the otherwise barren room. I don't move while the Peacekeeper stands by the door, waiting for a visitor. If I even have any.

This reminds me of when Finnick was in this position. Father and I visited him a room that looked just like this. It could have even been this one. But Father has as much emotion as a rock and I was bawling all over Finnick. I remember him telling me, "It doesn't matter the size of the person in the fight. What matters is the size of the fight in the person. And I have some pretty big fight in me. I don't want to be in this, but I'll do nearly anything to come home and be with you again. You hear me, Nimiane?"

I recall those words as the Peacekeeper sticks his out of the door. He steps aside to let Ingrid in, her face covered in salty tears. "I can't believe this!" she whimpers, running over to the couch. She ends up ungracefully falling onto my lap. "They can't take you away from me! You keep me going, Nim. If they take you, they unknowingly take me with you."

I gently shush her as I help her into a sitting position. "Ing, there's nothing I can do about this. But the thing you can do is wait for me. This life is still worth living if you give me a chance to come out of there, alive. Well, it's worth living, even if I'm not coming back. You just need to find your muse – something that makes you happy and can keep you on your feet. Try to find that for me, okay?" I ask.

She nods as I wipe a tear off her cheek. "And not only are you being taken away," she murmurs after a few seconds of silence, "but Remington is, too. He was the only other person here who actually gets me."

I clench my teeth. "You can do without both of us. You know it, deep down. You can do without so many things you were given in your fifteen years of existence. So why not two people? There are thousands of others here in District Four."

She doesn't talk for a minute or two. The Peacekeeper, who apparently left sometime during our conversation, sticks his head in the room and motions that time is up. As a petite Ingrid shuffles out, she stops at the door and says, "You know how to make me feel better, Nim."

She walks out, and all I can think is, _I'm turning into fourteen-year-old Finnick._

Father is the only other person to come, which I am perfectly fine with. He walks in like nothing is wrong, like when Finnick was reaped. "Nimiane, you're strong. You're determined. And you have motivation to come out of that arena alive. So don't let some bratty Career take your right of life away from you without a fight, okay?" he says, hugging me.

I nod. "I'll do my best."

He smiles. "Now, Nim, I have some work to get done today, since this is my only free day of the year, so I'm going to have to cut this short. But I wanted to give you something."

He hands a small, dinky box. I raise an eyebrow at him. _Seriously? _He seems to be all business about this, so I reluctantly open it. Inside lies a small, golden pin with a trident. I instantly recognize it as my mother's token from the 49th Hunger Games. "You want me to have this?"

"Would I be giving it to you if I didn't?" he says, laughing. "I didn't give it to Finnick because he already had a special tie with the Games. You don't. So I thought it would be better for you than him."

I hook the token to my torso. "You remind me of your mother so much," he says, a tear in his eye. He then gets up and leaves the room, without another word.

The Peacekeeper allows another few minutes for lazing on my part and waiting to and visitors on his, which is fine by me. We finally leave the empty room, meeting up with Remington in the hallway. I make a point of ignoring him. We go through the foyer and out the door of the City Hall, heading towards the train station.

We arrive, and are bombarded by cameras. I make sure not to look at any of them, following our escorts to the train car. Finnick told me to never too at the cameras after he got back, because they might start to get ideas about what's supposedly going on in my head if I do. I don't look to see if Remington does the same. When we make it, I walk up the shaky metal steps to our car.

The car was pretty much the same as any train car we could ever have, only Finnick is in it. "Nimiane," he angrily spats as I sit down next to him on the worn-in couch. "Finnick," I say in the same manner.

He doesn't talk to me, or anyone for that matter. He stares at the screen of the television in front of us, broadcasting what seems to be the reaping of the other Districts. "How does competition look?" I ask.

"Competition is fierce. It looks like you need to step up the game," he says, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hands.

"Meaning…?" Remington says from behind me.

"Meaning your thinking skills need to be better than a professional's. Because the only way that you guys can overcome is by outsmarting them," Finnick says. "When we get to the Capitol, I want nothing but training from you. Training and socialization, got it?"

"Loud and clear," we both say unhappily.

**Yes, I know, it's not the best way to end the chapter. But I couldn't think of any other way, so, this is it. Again, please submit tributes from any district except District 4!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Yeah, so, you know how I said last chapter that Nimiane's mom was in the 40****th**** Hunger Games? I meant the 49****th****….whoops. I'm so terrible. And I'd like to thank crazy-forever for a character in this chapter, so, thanks :D**

I like isolation from the world as much as the next guy, but Finnick is getting ridiculous.

We've been in the Capitol for one day. _One day. _And Finnick decides that, although it is a free day since we got here in the afternoon, we can't go sightseeing. If I'm probably going to die, you'd think he'd want me to die happily. But, nooooo.

Instead he forces us to stay in our rooms all day. Considering they were pretty nice rooms (only the best for the nearly dead, I said when we got here), it wasn't a really bad thing to do, but I was extremely bored. I think Finnick is just trying to torture me with interesting shower settings and such. Or maybe he wanted time to himself. I'm not entirely sure. But I was so not amused that I fell asleep in a matter of hours.

I wake at the sound of knocking on the door. I groan, sit up, and stretch. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and then look down at my attire. Capitol provided pajamas is decent clothing, right? _Whatever_, I think. I shout, "Come in!" It's probably Finnick, anyway.

Remington's head peeks around the slightly opened door. "And you want…?" I ask, crossing my arms at the unpleasant surprise. "To talk," he says, shyly.

I give him a death glare, but he isn't affected. He comes in and stands by my bed. "Why are you avoiding interaction with me?" he asks.

"Whatever do you mean?" I sarcastically ask. "Because of Ingrid."

"I'm friends with Ingrid."

"Well, breaking my best friend's heart doesn't go down well in my book, friend or not."

"That was a while ago," he says, scratching the back of his head. "She's put it behind her. You should, too."

"The probability of that is very low, you know."

"And why?" he asks.

"Because I don't like you anyway!" I say, exasperated.

He puts his hands up in front of him. "And why would that be?"

"Because you've had everything handed to you on a silver platter. Your parents haven't worked a day in their lives, all because you come from old money. Girls flock to you. Guys are dying to be your friend. And you don't know what real life is, because you haven't had to live it yet," I say, not looking him in the eye.

He clenches his teeth. "Trust me, I know what life is. You don't know a thing about me, Nimiane. If you would ask Ingrid about me, she would have told you my life story, the ups and the downs." He then walks out without another word.

I close my eyes and hang my head. _Don't listen to that guy. Everyone in town knows all of his life, backwards and forwards._

I manage to get out of bed and pull on some capitol-issue clothes: a blue, cotton shirt and a pair of brown pants. I don't bother to find shoes, and instead slip on the softest slippers you have ever worn. _If I'm going to receive any sass from Finnick today, I might as well do it while walking on clouds_, I think. As for my hair, I pull it up into a messy bun and don't even bother combing it.

I walk into the clean hallway, no trace of Remington in sight. Instant relief engulfs my being. I briskly walk until I reach the elevators, which are basically classier versions of glass test tubes. I press the down button, seeing as I'm on the 43rd floor and I need to go to the 6th. The doors open at my bidding.

The Capitol is really something. Much neater and better to look at than the districts, I might add. Thousands of buildings dot the landscape, and the sun seems to be always shining over them. Each building is painted brightly, and, even from my great height, I can see several murals painted on the walls.

I keep speculating the wonders of the Capitol when the elevator comes to a sudden and unsafe stop. I almost fall on my butt because of the forces exerted on me. The doors open, and I'm momentarily confused, since we're not on the 6th floor, but the 24th. A girl with bright green hair – brighter than the ocean's usual green tint – steps in, running her fingers through her hair. She sees me struggling to stay up and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Just some major gravitational forces working on my fragile body, no big deal," I say, stabilizing my stance.

"Oh, I know. These elevators are terrifying. When I got here, some guy who was obviously from around here wasn't even fazed when we stopped. I fell to the floor," she laughs. "I think I have a bruise."

I laugh too. "I'm Nimiane. Fifteen, District Four."

She extends her hand for a handshake. "Scarlett. Seventeen, District Three." I return the gesture as she adds, "And, no, my hair is not naturally this color."

"I wouldn't have guessed," I say, sarcastically. "What happened? Did you die it or something?"

"Oh, no. I was in a medical experiment. It was supposed to see if this tiny little pill my dad had made would cure a common cold. It did, but one of the side-effects that had to be added to the list was 'dramatic changes of hair color to bright green'." I laugh once again.

"I'm guessing it wasn't an approved drug?" I ask. She says while looking upon the people on the nearing ground, "Well, it could be a really easy way for these Capitol freaks to die their hair, now, isn't it?"

_At least I'm socializing, like Finnick said to,_ I think to myself.

We get down to the 6th floor, and we try out hardest to stay up. I end up being successful, while Scarlett just falls. "That's going to hurt in the morning," she says as she rubs her wounded spot. We both laugh as we walk out of the enclosed elevator and out into the special floor reserved for the Hunger Games.

Several tributes are already seated at the long, narrow table. You can tell that we're supposed to be sitting by district, too, because the four from Districts One and Two are sitting together, then the boy from District 3, who looks just like Scarlett. There are two empty spaces, then Remington. We take our spots. "Who's the cute guy who looks like you," she says, peering at Remington's ashen face.

"Someone who I would not like to talk about right now," I whisper, just soft enough for Remington not to hear me. "We kind of had an argument earlier today. He has it easy, and he hasn't lived, but he thinks he has."

She nods. "Ah. I see your point. Former boyfriend?"

My eyes widen. "Not on my life would we ever date!"

"Just checking," she says, holding her hands up in a universal don't-hurt-me sign.

Finnick walks by and joins the mentors at the head of the table. "Nim," he says, only acknowledging me to be polite. "Finn," I say back.

"I guess you guys don't like each other, too?" Scarlett asks.

"It's a love-hate relationship. He's my brother."

"Finnick Odair is your _brother_?" she says, her eyes practically popping out of her head. Apparently, she was pretty loud, because everyone is now staring. Including the topic of conversation. When everyone looks away, she barely whispers to me, "I just made people overestimate you, didn't I?"

I nod. "That, you did."

**Yaaaaaaay. So, Scarlett was crazy-forever's idea. Props, my friend. And I'm still accepting tribute submissions (just not District Four or District Three's girl. Otherwise, it's all game), so, submit and stuff. Well, these things always have slightly awkward endings, now, don't they?**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Now, please tell I'm not the only person who realized today marks three months until the movie. So excited :D ….and you probably don't care. Okay, onto the story!**

Scarlett tries to not draw any more attention to me than necessary for the rest of the breakfast, and I just try to avoid topics that might cause her to scream again. Not that that stops anyone from staring at me. I try not to look at anyone.

"Well, this is awkward," Scarlett says, pushing her food around on her plate. "At least the woman who reaped me hasn't arrived yet."

"Ditto," I say. "Lyon is a walking disaster. She ate up this conversation Finn and I had onstage after I was reaped. I have a feeling she's bad news."

Scarlett nods. Then, awkward silence. "So, why again are you and Remington not friends?"

I sigh, checking to see if Remington is talking to someone. His back is turned to me as he intently listens to the girl from District Five run her mouth. "He dated my best friend back home. And he broke her heart. And, although they're friends, I still don't like him."

She nods. "Yeah, well, Adan here," she starts as she points to the boy from District Three, "is practically my brother. Our parents are best friends; henceforth, we are forced to be together. Just like myself and my brothers."

"And how many brothers do you have?" I ask.

"Five."

"Ooh."

She laughs. "I know. Multiply your annoyances with Finnick by five and you'd have a good idea of each day of my life."

We both laugh. "You miss them?"

She shakes her head, vigorously. "Hell no! Those boys are pains in the butt. It's really a blessing I was reaped, especially since I'm the youngest. You have no idea how much it hurts to be punched by your oldest brother for the remote."

I laugh. "Finnick doesn't do that, I'll assure you. My dad doing that is more likely than him."

She gives me a look that says _seriously_? I nod.

Someone whistles from the front of the room. It turns out it's the head gamemaker, Seneca Crane. Scarlett takes a minute to notice, and just keeps talking, along with one other person. When she realizes I've gone silent, she does the same. The poor boy from District Seven just keeps going for another minute. Then he silences, and Crane starts to talk. "Welcome, tributes! We are so excited to see you all here, blah blah blah. You know, customary stuff." He seems really out of it today. Whenever you see an interview with him, he's always this peppy, happy-go-lucky guy. I guess he has stuff on his mind.

"Well, anyways, today you're starting your preparations for the parade thing around the Capitol. You know, that thing? And well, your prep team will come to your rooms at noon-ish, so don't be late." He pauses a moment. "Well, that's pretty much it. You can leave now, if you want."

Conversations start again after he leaves us. "I imagined Crane to be more… gracious with words," I say.

"Well, maybe he's having an off day?" Scarlett shrugs. "Do you know what time it is?" she asks the whole table.

"About ten o'clock!" Someone from the other end shouts. "Thanks!" Scarlett shouts back. "I better get going. I have a feeling that my prep team won't want to see me in this disaster of an outfit."

I shrug. "They'll probably fix us up anyways. We have a day or two to become hideously beautiful, so I wouldn't worry too much about what you look like now."

"I'm just sparing myself from enduring the torture of them complaining about my split ends and green hair," she laughs as she gets up from her seat, pushing in the chair. "I'll see you later?"

"Most likely when we're Capitol beauties," I laugh.

She leaves, letting me sit in my thoughts of preparations for the "parade thing". Finnick told me that prep was the worst part, except for the actual games. They scrub you until your skin is raw and they pull your hair in the weirdest ways. "You haven't experienced pain until you are prepped for the Games," he once said.

I look at the face around me. Most are somewhat delightful at the thought of Capitol-made shampoos and not-so-effortless beauty. Others are as gloomy as when they came in the room. They obviously are still dreading the fact that their lives are ending, right in front of their eyes.

That leads me to think, _Why the hell am I not worried about dying_? Maybe it's my legacy. Everyone thinks I'm coming out alive. But the odds are against me, majorly. Hopefully someone will be sympathetic enough towards me to get me some good sponsors, and hopefully the stuff I need to survive.

Now I understand Scarlett. She wanted to look better than what they could do with the little time allotted for beauty. She wants to look good so people will love her, and hopefully sponsor her. She wants to live.

With that thought in mind, I get up from the table and go all the way up to the 43rd floor in the dangerous elevators. _Primping for my prep team won't hurt, right? _But as I go through my door, I can't get myself to do it. I've never primped. Ingrid never primped. I don't even think I know anyone who knows what primping actually entails.

Instead, I immediately leave my room. While I have time, I might as well get away from Finnick's wishes and go have some fun, right? I end up wandering around, looking for a way to see the Capitol from a better view than the elevators or my room's window can. I go up deserted staircases, walk through endless hallways, and there's no sign of windows. Or life.

I find a random door, which doesn't match the rest that I've passed by. A sign on the front reads "do not enter". Naturally, I enter, and end up on the roof.

I'm not the only person who wanted to see the skyline, it seems. A muscular boy with brown hair and nearly the same Capitol-issue clothing as I now own stands near the edge, his hands on the railing. I come up beside him. He looks over. "You wanted to see the city, too?" he asks, his voice gentle.

I nod. "I needed outside, I guess. I hate being cooped up in these rooms."

He keeps his eyes trained on the buildings below. "You're Finnick's sister?"

"Unfortunately," I say. "Even when I'm not anywhere near him, it seems people identify us together."

"That's totally a good thing." He turns to face me. "Your brother is famous. By default, you're famous, too. Therefore, you have a higher chance of getting sponsors, because they want to get on Finnick's good side."

I nod. "I'd rather have to earn them myself and get them like the rest of you."

He holds out his hand for a handshake. I take it. "I'm Brant. District Six."

"Morphling?" I ask, smirking. "Not a drop," he says, laughing.

We stand in silence, looking over the city. "It's really something, isn't it?" he asks.

"Better than District Four, I'll say."

"And Six, for that matter."

We stay silent for a little more. "I have to go," he says, looking at a large clock tower in the middle of the Capitol. "It's almost eleven-thirty. And I have no idea how to get back to my room."

"Oh, okay," I say. I was actually kind of enjoying his presence. "I'll see you later?"

He nods as he goes out the door.

_Well, Finnick, socialization isn't a problem_, I think. _At this rate, everyone will want to be an ally_.

**Yaaaay. So, still in need of tributes, so think of some for me, please xD I'm hopeless. Okay.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Wooooo. I'm on a roll! It's like I ate something that has properties that boost my willing-ness to write. **

I manage to get to my room at twelve thirty, not to the surprise of my prep team and Lyon, who decided to "watch the process of beauty". "Should've known," one girl, Leila, says. "Finnick was the same way as you. Except he was two hours late."

"Typical Finn," I agree. "So, what's first?"

And that's how I spent my day: taking three showers, having all of the hair on my body waxed (except for my eyebrows and my luxurious mane), and nearly crying about thirty times.

Luckily, they allowed me to sleep in, seeing as I went to bed well after three in the morning. They woke me up at nearly noon. "Get up!" Lyon screams. "Carina will be here any minute!"

_Who the hell is Carina?_

"She said twelve thirty, and you need to take a shower!" Lyon says, satisfied that I'm up but not with my hygienic state. I groan. _Another_ Shower?

My prep team is frantically running around the bathroom. "You can go in, you know," Halle says.

"Not unless you all leave," I retort, crossing my arms. They reluctantly leave after some last-minute preparations. _Alone at last._

I strip off my pajamas and step into the sterile shower. I turn the knob until the little arrow on it is pointing to the side reading hot water. The running water reminds me of home. I stand, frozen under the scorching water for a few minutes, pondering how Ingrid and Dad are doing back home. I'm not nearly as worried about Dad as I am Ingrid. Is she okay?

I reluctantly wash my hair with the shampoo and conditioner that my prep team placed in here. The stench of the ocean fills the room, and I feel a little nostalgic. Only a few days ago, I was fishing on our family's boat near the coast of District Four.

I pull myself away from the water and step out, determined not to cry for home. _What is wrong with me? Yesterday I was not caring at all about home, and now I'm going to cry about it?_

I wrap my body in a towel, and I attempt to dry my hair with another. A robe hangs on my door, so I take it and put it on. I make myself busy by continuing to dry my hair, until a petite, blonde woman peeks her head around the door. "Knock, knock!" she says. "It's Carina."

I put down the towel and nod for her to come in. "I'm guessing you're my stylist?"

"Indeed, I am." Carina opens the door and brings in a garment bag with her. She places it on a large counter, right next to me. "You have underclothes?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "Put them on, and then try this on. Time is limited, so be snappy," she says in a gentle tone.

I do as she says, slipping on the undershirt and underwear after taking off my robe. I gently zip open the garment bag, hoping not to damage what's inside. I then put that on, trying my hardest not to look at what I'm wearing.

"Don't want to look at yourself, eh?" Carina laughs. "Don't worry, you look gorgeous."

I finally open my eyes and look in the mirror. Basically, I'm wearing a wetsuit – which is not wet, thankfully – that is the colors of the sea: blue, green, purple. A golden net is draped off my shoulders, like a cape. Small, bronze disks pin the net to the wetsuit. It's not much, but it somehow seems to come together in a way that makes it look stunning. "It's so simple, yet so elaborate," Carina says, clapping her hands excitedly. "It reminds me of home!"

"You're from District Four?" I ask, feeling the cloth.

"My dad used to live there before he died," she says, shrugging. "I can't really go anymore, because I have no reason to. But I occasionally go to keep up with styles and such. And I obviously keep up with the news."

"That's why you look more normal everyone else here!" I joke.

She laughs. "I try, I try."

She decides that I don't need to really do anything with my hair, since it's naturally wavy and wind-blown from my time on the sea. She applies as little make-up as possible: some eyeliner to bring out my eyes and a little blush here and there. "Perfect!" she says, kissing her fingers like a chef. I smile at her.

We walk out into the hall, my prep team in tow. The one girl that I don't know the name of compliments me on my seemingly-effortless beauty. I don't tell that it was actually effortless. And I don't ask her name, since she'll probably be a big crybaby about me forgetting it. Remington and his people are waiting for us near the elevators, him wearing a nearly-matching getup. He doesn't look at me, and I do the same. Before I know it, we're down to the ground floor, heading towards the chariots.

Ours is probably the most expensive chariot out there. Murals of the ocean and its creatures are on every flat surface, rimmed with gold. The horses are a pure white color, with bronze hair, like the district's citizens. Finnick stands by it, eating the horses' sugar cubes. "Want one?" he asks as we approach. I roll my eyes, and Remington politely declines. "And I think you are forgetting something, Nim," Finnick says, holding out his closed fist. And, of course, he doesn't just open his hand like a polite person. I have to pry them open with my own. After several long seconds, and aching fingers, he _finally_ decides that it would be nice to just give whatever it is to me.

He places it in my hand before I can get a good look at it. Mom's trident token. "But, how did you…?" I trail off, not bothering to finish. Knowing Finnick, he probably got it in some obscure way that no one would understand.

"I was angry at you, so I swiped it from your room. Just like when we were kids?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course. Why does it not surprise me that you broke into my room, took a personal object, and left without a trace?"

"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "Time to go, Nim."

Remington gets onto the chariot first, helping me up after he steadies himself. "Thanks," I mumble. He doesn't say anything. _Well, he obviously isn't letting this go, like Finn._

Carina and Remington's stylist, Jorge, tell us exactly how to stand. Face the outside, one hand up to wave, the other hold's Remington's hand. I think they did that on purpose, personally – they're trying to fix relations between us so we don't end up killing each other before everyone else. Either that, or their oblivious to the whole thing.

Either way, it's really awkward. Our palms start to sweat after waiting for the show to start. We don't talk or look at each other. Carina, Jorge, and Lyon – when the hell did she get here? – try to give us last-minute tips about the chariots and what we should do, but Finnick stops them. "They'll figure it out for themselves," he says, shooing them away. "Good luck, you guys." And then he goes off with everyone else.

The parade around the Capitol starts. First, the tributes from District One go, wearing a metallic dress and suit. Then Two, with their jewel-encrusted outfits. Scarlett turns to me from the chariot in front of ours, and gives me a look of terror. I grimace back. Then, she's gone, along with Adan.

Our chariot starts moving, and my grip on Remington's hand gets exceeding tighter. I can hear the cheer of the crowd. Some announcer is saying who we are.

"And here is Remington Lore and Nimiane Odair from District Four! Who ever thought there would be a third Odair in the Hunger Games?" The crowd roars at the mention of my family. I clench my teeth.

And, before I know it, I'm blinded by street lights. Everyone is watching me, waiting for me to slip up.

**Yes, my friends. Chapter 5, done! It's a massive weight lifted off my chest, and stuff. Okay, you know, submit characters. Please? xD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wooooooo. I haven't been able to find any inspiration to write ever since Christmas. You'd think I would be able to at least come up with something during the period of four days that I didn't leave my house, but nooooooooo.**

Well, that was fifteen wasted minutes of my life.

We just stood. And waved. No speaking, no moving; just smiling and waving.

We finally, _finally_ approach the hangar that we came from, and someone gives us the signal to get off of the chariot. Remington mumbles, "Later," as he walks toward the elevator. I see Scarlett waiting for me, right by the refreshments. "Well, that was so much more awkward that I thought it was going to be," she says, grimacing.

"Now, imagine having a mute hothead next to you for the whole time, and you'll have a pretty good feel of how my time was. Plus, they mentioned Finnick. That just made it so much more unpleasant for me," I add, making a look of disgust. "I _hate_ being compared to him."

"Says the girl with four less brothers that I do," Scarlett reminds me.

"But, anyways, that was pretty torturous. Just the fact that I can be identified with him is bad enough, but being forced to parade around the Capitol was not on the top of my to-do list," I say. I see Finnick casually walking towards me, not reluctant to say hello to his fellow victors on his way. "Well, speaking of the devil."

"Didn't I tell you that that was the worst part of the games?" Finnick says. "Your prep team probably destroyed your self-esteem about your looks, huh? I know mine did!"

I burst out laughing. Finnick? Thinking he doesn't look good? He gives me a weird look. "What?" he asks. "It just sounds totally weird coming from someone of your…popularity," I choose to say.

"Anyways, who is this?" he says, as if just taking notice that there's a lime standing next to me

"I'm Scarlett," she says, flashing a killer smile to him. I think she meant for that to get Finnick interested in her, but he just looks not amused overall. But, just to be polite, he holds out his hand for a shake. He mumbles, "Nice to meet you, Scarlett."

We chat for a few more minutes, and when the subject gets to our homes, I want to burst out crying. _Oh, so _now_ I'm missing home? _To prevent any sight of myself crying, since that's only reserved for the few I trust like my family and Ingrid, I politely excuse myself and head up to my quarters. I unlock the door, slam it behind me, and run to my bed. Making a little jumping motion, I land with my face on the pillow, and I let it rip. I sob for what seems like forever to me, but I was only occupied by this for ten minutes. When I feel like I can actually talk without my voice quivering, I sit up and pull my knees to my chest. I gently lay my head down upon my kneecaps, staring off at my door, like I'm expecting someone to come. But no one does.

I eventually fall asleep without my knowledge of it. When I wake, I'm lying under my covers and my limbs are sprawled out, as usual. A knock sounds from the wooden door, and I groggily get up to answer. Finnick looks at me like I'm crazy when the door opens. "You never changed out of your get-up?"

I look down at the wetsuit. "I guess not."

He rolls his eyes and mumbles what sounds like, "Typical Nimiane," but it was inaudible, so I couldn't be sure. "Anyways, get changed! You start training today, and you can't be late!"

"What time is it?" I ask, wondering if I missed breakfast or anything.

"Ten o'clock," Finnick says.

Oh. Then I guess I'm not eating.

I reluctantly roam around my room, finding comfortable clothes and slipping them on, not caring if they match or not. Then I choose actual shoes to wear today instead of slippers. In a minute or two, I'm out the door and following an angry Finnick to wherever training is.

After finding our way to the 7th floor and meandering around the hallways for what seems like forever, we find the large, open room, filled with tributes and victors. Stations for sword fighting, archery, knot tying, and many other skills are being used by all. I spot Scarlett at the camouflage station, painting a streak of pink in her already unnatural hair. Brant is over by sword fighting. "Pick your poison," Finnick says, gesturing to the stations.

I choose sword fighting, seeing as it can't hurt to try it. Unless someone cuts my arm off. Then it would definitely hurt.

Brant gives me a small smile as I bound over to him. "Not a wiz at the wielded weapons, eh?"

"I'm no Finnick, let me tell you," I laugh. Finnick used a trident, which was a gift from his sponsors, to eliminate several people who were in the arena. I've had no experience with tridents or swords or even butter knives. I'd say that being Finnick's sister will probably gain me enough sponsors to get me a decent weapon, and they'll probably think it's cute to give us matching tridents or whatever. "It can't hurt to learn the tricks of the trade."

"Well, then, let's get started." Brant tosses me a nearby sword, and I fumble to catch it. "I've been trying out these babies back home for years. Now it'll finally pay off," he says, examining his own blade. "So I'll help you as best as I can."

We take opposing spots on the mats that were provided for us. I try to keep my grip on the large sword, but I occasionally drop it out of weakness. Brant shows me how to cut, slash, and all those fancy things that I don't remember the names of, seeing as I have no interest in remembering. We spar for a few minutes, before we decide that we should cover as many stations as possible in the few days given to us before doing whatever we want for the Gamemakers.

Next is the archery station, which both us try to succeed in. But I have no experience with holding a boy and Brant is too big for the bows they provide. I hit the target a few times during Brant's several attempts to adjust to the small, curved piece of wood. Ultimately, we both have no interest in archery and move on.

We go to where Scarlett was and is – the camouflage station. I sneak up behind her, not reluctant to scream in her ear as she paints her split ends blue. Brant gives me a questioning look, and I laugh. Scarlett jumps up and turns around, punching me in the arm. Her force is really great, and I actually feel pain from the blow. "What the hell?" I scream in shock. Brant's eyes widen in shock. Scarlett's face goes red.

I sigh. "Well, Brant, this is Scarlett the Clobberer."


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I'm going to try to get a few more chapters of this out soon enough, since I'm working on other FanFics and stuff. Anywho…**

Scarlett and Brant hit it off well. Not well as in they-have-a-thing-for-each-other-well, but we-could-eventually-be-friends-if-we-weren't-going-to-kill-each-other-soon-well. Either way is okay with me.

We start painting our legs together with berry dye when Scarlett asks Brant, "What's your family like back home?"

"Two little sisters," he says distractedly, painting little hearts on his leg. "Mom is a morphling addict, so I make a point of not getting into that stuff for the sake of my sisters. And dad left us after the youngest was born."

Scarlett makes a noise of sympathy. "Is it hard being in that situation?"

"It wouldn't be so hard if Mom was a better role model. But she spends a lot of money on the drug, and I think that my sisters are so young that they're going to think its okay to use. They're probably becoming addicted as we speak." He suddenly starts crossing out the hearts he painted on his leg.

"How old?" I ask, making blue swirls on the floor.

"Arietta is six and Sterling is four," he says.

"I remember that my oldest brother once brought home morphling when I was two. Mom wouldn't let him leave the house for a year without her," Scarlett says, nostalgic.

"Finnick never did anything like that," I quietly say.

"He doesn't seem like he would, either. I mean, look at him!" Scarlett says, gesturing across the room to him. "He's too good looking to be on drugs or whatever!"

Brant hangs his head, and I don't answer. Scarlett realizes what she said and quickly spits out, "Not that all drug addicts are unappealing!"

Brant shakes his head, and lets out a bitter laugh. "It's okay. My mom would look better if she wasn't on morphling for half of her life, but she's definitely not hideous."

We chat a little more about home, and then I decide to go try something else. Socializing is nice and all, but I'd rather have a better chance at winning than more allies. Call me crazy, but I'd rather kill someone who isn't an ally than eventually have to do the same to the opposite.

I choose knot tying next because, hey, I'm already really good at it. My laziness prevents me from trying anything else. I find Finnick at the same station, vigorously tying a noose in a way that I've never seen before. I come up behind him, but not as sneakily as I did with Scarlett before. Besides, he turns around before I can even surprise him, due to his self-proclaimed "increased senses". "Look!" he says. "A bird!"

I take a look at the knot, but it just looks like a huge mass of mesh to me. "…Yeah, that's a bird alright."

Finnick rolls his eyes. "Someday, Nim, you'll understand my thought process. Especially after you come home from the games, _right_?"

I ignore the last part. I'm certainly not going to get into the odds with Finnick.

I get a rope and start tying knots like there's no tomorrow. In one hour, I've filled up three yard-long ropes with knots that you can't untie. Finnick once tried to, and even his strength didn't help him.

"You're pretty good with a rope," the girl next to me says.

I shrug. "When you've lived on the sea for most of your life, you learn how to tie a few knots."

"You're Finnick's sister, right?" she asks, turning away from her rope and facing me.

I bite my lip. "Yes," I barely get out through my clenched teeth.

She extends her hand for a shake, saying, "I'm Gem. District One."

"Nimiane," I reply, accepting her gesture.

I teach her how to tie a really good knot, but I don't show her anything that could give her an advantage over me. I'm sure Finnick would flip if I did.

Gem is about as smart as she is beautiful – which basically sums up her whole appearance. She has curly brown hair and deep brown eyes that just make you want to tell her everything. Her lips are blood red, and I'm pretty convinced that it's her natural lip color. Being so closely tied to the Capitol, you never know what those District One citizens get.

"So, I see you are friends with District Three's girl and District Six's guy," she calmly says, cutting off the end of a rope she ruined with a sharp knife.

"Yeah. They're cool," I say, tying another knot.

"Personally, I think you'd be better off with us Careers."

"Why?"

"We're trained. We have skills, and it's obvious you have some too. We can even invite that one attractive guy from your district to join. I don't know what he can do, but being a good looker is good enough for me."

I suppress my urge to make a vomiting gesture, since I'm kind of not trusting Gem. Remington can join if he wants to, but just because we're a Career district doesn't mean I want to join these people and then probably be killed by them. "Maybe," I mutter. I put down the length of rope and announce that I'm switching stations. Gem just continues sawing off her rope until it becomes a pile of strings.

I try archery. I'm not expecting to be good with a bow at all. I've never even held a bow. Or arrows. But it's worth a try.

From this point on, I try to focus more on the actual training than meeting people and making alliances. I practically ignore anyone who comes up to me, including Brant and Scarlett. If lacking a social life is the price I have to pay to live, then I'll pay up.

Anything to get back to Ingrid.

The next day or so passes by quickly. I follow my routine of more training and less people throughout. But when the day of the Gamemaker's Assessment comes, I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach.

We all sit nervously in a small room, awaiting the Gamemakers to call out our names and test our skills.

First goes the boy from District One, Gleam. Then Gem, who gave me a glance before entering the room. Then Alexx, the boy from District two who has probably the bluest eyes you will ever see. A girl who looks like she could be his younger sister, named Matilda, goes after him. Adan gives Scarlett a weird look before disappearing into the room.

Scarlett grabs my hand when he leaves. "I'm so scared of the Gamemakers," she whispers. "Aren't you scared?"

Personally, I more scared than I have been in my entire life. But I might as well put on a brave face for Scarlett. "We all are. You're not alone, Scarlett. You're just being less subtle than everyone else about it." She nods as a Gamemaker calls for her. She lets out a little _eep!_ and unwillingly gets up to go.

Remington leaves without me even noticing. We're still not talking. Not that I would expect us to since I've been not talking to anyone for days. But I would expect him to say good luck or something. He's that type of guy who can spread the luck, just because he has enough of it to share.

Then the Gamemaker says my name with possibly the least understandable accent I've ever heard. But I didn't hesitate to get up for fear that he meant someone else. I try to collect myself and walk as calmly as possible to the room that I've been in several times for the past few days.

But once I walk through that door, the sudden realization that impressing these people could keep me alive overwhelms me.


	8. Chapter 8

The room is the gym we've been training in for the past few days, only one end of the room is occupied by a table of Gamemakers, staring me down.

"Name?" one of them asks.

"Nimiane Odair," I reply, like it was public knowledge. Which it is.

"Show us what you've got," Another one says, barely understandable because of his accent.

Now, honestly, I haven't thought through about what I'm going to do. It's never crossed my mind. But an idea his me that I'm sure will at least get me some more extra points than what Finnick has already gotten me.

I go to the rope tying station, and gather up several pieces of rope. A few boards of wood are lying around, so I take those too. I weave the rope around the boards in a manner that eventually causes the wood to look like a sword. I then go to the sword fighting station, and pick out one of those swords.

"Anyone want to hold this for me? I won't hurt you. I just want to test this."

One Gamemaker reluctantly stands up, fear shining in his bright purple eyes. I hand him the sword. "Now, don't move. I'm just going to hit your sword with all I've got, okay?" He nods nervously.

I stand a good few feet away from him. I can see him shaking, barely managing to hold up the weapon in his hands. "Ready?" I ask. He nods once again.

I swing with all of my might. Not only does his sword go flying across the room after making contact, but it touches another Gamermaker's shoes, and he jumps up. My makeshift sword stays together, none of the pieces of wood even shifting. I give myself a mental pat on the back, and I smile.

"I believe that's all we'll need of you," the freaked out Gamemaker says. "Thank you, Nimiane."

I take this as my queue to go, and so I do. "No problem," I mumble, thankfully not under their watching eyes when I leave the room.

I find Remington and Finnick waiting for me right outside the door. "How'd it go?" Finnick asks eagerly.

"Fine," I mumble.

"What did you do?" he asks, still eager.

"I made a sword out some stray wood and rope. And then I tested it against a sword that a Gamemaker was holding," I say, acting like it's no big deal. Which, to me, it isn't. I turn to Remington. "How about you?"

He says, "I did some archery. They didn't look all that impressed."

The three of us don't speak until Remington reaches his room. "Okay, so, I don't really think that we'll need to practice for the interviews. Am I right?" Finnick asks. "Besides, I already know that Nim isn't going to restrain herself from answering questions. She's good with crowds. And I'm sure you'll be fine, Remington. So I'll see you both at breakfast?" And then he leaves us to ourselves.

Remington and I awkwardly stand in front of our doors, not really sure what to do. I finally decide that some make-up is in order.

"I'm really sorry about what I said, Remington."

He doesn't miss a beat. "It's okay. I can see your perspective on the situation now."

"And that would be?"

"That I had everything I've ever wanted and that you've had so many more troubles than I."

I nod. "That's a basic way to put it."

"And I can understand why you resent me," he goes on. "I dated your best friend. And I broke her heart. And although she was able to forgive me, you can't because you remember what I put her through."

I nod.

"I'm not expecting for you to forgive me anytime soon. In fact, I'm sure you're probably going to end up killing me in the arena. I mean, you've got your reasons. I totally get that."

"I'm not going to kill you," I say, softly.

He looks at me weirdly. "After all the anger I've caused you, you're not?"

"I couldn't do that to Ingrid. She'd hate me forever."

His gaze softens. "I'm sure she'd be able to see it from your point of view, too."

"I don't know. You're her best friend too."

I shrug. "So, we're okay, right?" I ask while turning to my door, key in hand.

Remington nods. "Sure."

I also nod. "Good."

Unlocking the door, I enter my room and immediately collapse on the plush bed. _Who know making a sword and swinging it around would be so tiring? _I immediately fall asleep.

The next morning, I wake up to Finnick screaming. "I haven't done anything wrong today, Finn," I groggily grumble as I turn onto my back.

"You didn't even go to breakfast, Nim."

My eyes shoot open. "Whoops."

He rolls his eyes. "I guess I should have expected it. But your prep team is coming in an hour for maintenance, so you might want to get up."

He leaves.

Wait a minute.

_ How the hell did he get into my room?_

I pull myself out of bed and stuff my feet into slippers. I don't bother changing, seeing as my prep team will probably make me change again anyways. Which they do, once they get inside my room.

"Go take a shower," the girl with the name that I still don't remember commands. I do as she asks.

They spend an hour or so touching up makeup, waxing my legs and arms, and plucking my eyebrows. My hair is placed in an elaborate up-do that looks like a big swirl on my head, kind of like a crashing wave.

"Perfect!" Leila squeals, bouncing up and down and doing that annoying clapping thing that girls do when they get excited.

Carina arrives not too long after, and shoos the prep team out of my bathroom. "Well, let's get down to business," she says, unzipping a garment bag that looks just like the one she gave me before the parade through the Capitol.

I slip on the teal mini-dress that she hands to me. It has a golden disk right under my breasts, which stops the v-neck from going any farther below than that point. A few mini versions of that disk sit atop my shoulders, looking as if they're keeping the nonexistent sleeves from going over my shoulder.

Carina whistles and hands me some golden high-heels, which I have no experience walking in. She also hands me a small, golden chain with a diamond "4" dangling off it. "I thought you might as well keep something recognizing your home in your outfit, so I thought this necklace would be good!" she says, smiling.

"It certainly is," I say, putting it on. "But these heels might kill me, so beware."

Carina rolls her eyes. "They're not that hard to walk in after a few minutes of wearing them. You'll be a pro in no time."

Suddenly, a small pin of a trident catches my eye. "Can we put my mom's token onto the dress?" I ask, picking it up.

Carina shrugs. "I don't see why not." She then helps me to stick it through the straps of my dress so that it lies over my heart. "Your mom is now close to your heart."

"Well, I do love her."

"And the Gamemakers do love you."

I raise my eyebrows. "Huh?"

"The Gamemakers gave you a score of ten out twelve! You're higher than any other Career! Heck, you're higher than any other tribute!" Carina says.

"Oh. That's cool," I nonchalantly say. But, on the inside, I'm freaking out.


	9. Chapter 9

The news that all the Gamemakers are in my favor just put me on edge. As if I wasn't having enough trouble walking in heels already.

Carina told me that Remington and Brant got an eight, and Scarlett got a seven. _Good for them_, I think. _They don't have to be asked about why they got such a high score_.

Carina and my prep team lead the way to the elevators, where a tuxedoed Remington stands, waiting with a casual Finnick. "You've looked better," Finnick teases. I roll my eyes.

"Hey, I'm taller than you now!" I point out, laughing at the ridiculous height of the heels. Remington laughs as well.

"But, anyways, just answer all the questions as honestly as possible. You know where that got me," Finnick says as we step into an elevator. "Give it a try, and maybe you'll get off good."

We both nod as we near our floor. When the doors open, Finnick guides us through a small hallways until we reach the entrance to the theatre. "You're seats have your names on them," he says before opening the door and letting us be alone in a sea of people.

We easily find our seats between District Three's Tributes and District Five's. I sit quietly next to Adan while Remington is forced into conversation with the girl from District Five.

Before I can even acknowledge the start of the program, Caesar Flickerman is up onstage, the crowd roaring with excitement. He announces Gem, saying that she's "District One's beauty for this year". Of course, this description of her doesn't make me want to team up with her. It just makes her seem snooty.

Gem wows the audience with her attire of a jewel-encrusted, white dress. They talk about her home life and what she likes to do. Nothing unusual for the first interviewee. Gleam is next, and he lets the world know that he is a strong lover of the arts. That's basically all he says. But when Caesar asks him what his favorite type of music is, he gets all hot-headed and argues that there is no dominating music genre because they're all magnificent.

Matilda tells Caesar that she wants to become a politician when she gets out of the Games, and Alexx becomes all reserved and doesn't really let anything out for the world to know. I guess he didn't want to save his life in District Two.

Scarlett is next. Her a Caesar joke around about her hair and how it got so "splendidly green", as said my Caesar. They also talk about her life at home and how annoying her brothers are. After making a somewhat rude comment about all five of them, she blows a kiss to the cameras. "Love you guys!" she says before the buzzer rings, indicating her time is up. Adan does nearly the same thing, only talking about Scarlett and how they've grown up together.

Then, Caesar announces me. Cheers erupt from the audience, and I can practically feel my cheeks getting red. "What a lovely lady we have here!" he exclaims to the audience, getting me another round of cheers.

"So, it is true that you're the third person in your nuclear family, right?"

I nod. "Unfortunately, yes."

"How did you feel when Finnick was in the 65th Hunger Games?" he prods politely, looking like he truly and sincerely wants to know.

"Well, I was only ten then. But I knew there was a big chance he wasn't coming back. I didn't try to tell myself that he was definitely going to come out because he was one out of twenty-four. It's not likely," I say. "But I really felt depressed. I had lost my mother some time before and now Finnick."

Caesar nods. "Well, I'm sure the audience will all support you throughout the Games." I smile. "So, what's your life back home like?"

"Sailing, fishing, Finnick, baking bread, my best friend Ingrid… I can go on and on."

"Shouldn't school be somewhere on that list?" he says with a sarcastically suspicious look.

I grin. "School is for losers." The crowd laughs.

"Any boyfriends back home?" he asks, his eyebrows wiggling.

"Oh, God no. I'm a loner most of the time, except Ingrid."

"That's a surprise!" he says. "Who wouldn't want a girl like you?"

I laugh and roll my eyes, sure that my face is turning a darker shade of red than before.

"So, back to your family," he says. "How do you like being Finnick's little sister?"

"I love it. Being his sister is fun, abnormal, and definitely not boring. But that fact of the matter is, people are mostly nice to me because I'm his sister," I reply, somewhat angered that he's asking. "They like him, and they feel like they have to be nice to me to get on his good side. I can guarantee you that."

Caesar nods. The buzzer rings, signaling my time to be up. "Any final words?"

I think for a moment, and then say, "I miss you, Ingrid and Dad!" since I have no idea what else to say.

Next up is Remington. He talks about his family of himself and his parents. He talks about how we don't really know each other that well, but we've met before. How, he doesn't say.

Of course, I'm perfectly okay with not saying how.

The show goes on for an hour or so as Caesar goes through every tribute. There is joking, laughing, and being dead serious throughout. It's really entertaining, if you ask me. Caesar has a way of getting people to talk and want to pour out their heart and soul to him. Of course, we restrain ourselves most of the time. But sometimes it slips out, like when he asked me about Finnick.

Afterwards, Remington and I walk back to our rooms. We talk about things that happened, like when the girl from District Eight slipped while walking to her seat onstage. We laugh and chat as if we weren't resenting each other the night before. It's really lost on me how fast people can let go of former feelings.

We get to our rooms, and depart with a simple, "Good-night."

I immediately strip off the heels and dress, and slip into bed, ready to sleep for as long as Finnick will let me.


	10. Chapter 10

Breakfast was filled with dread and bacon.

So much bacon.

Scarlett nervously chewed her fingernails and Remington kept zoning out, probably thinking about how he's going to die.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm not nervous. That's why I'm eating as much as possible – it's like a habit of mine. And what happened to be fully stocked at the buffet table when I got there?

Bacon, the food of the Gods.

I motion for Finnick to come over. "Are people always like this the day before?" I ask him, gesturing to the table.

"Well, most people don't eat like a pig the day before, but pretty much."

"Correction: I'm eating pig. Not like a pig," I say.

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Nim. At least you have enough sense to eat as much as possible before you probably starve for days."

"I'm always thinking outside of the box," I say while taking a bite of a bacon strip.

"Of course you are," he replies. He then leaves to go talk to another victor.

I tap Scarlett on the shoulder, and she turns while chewing her nail. "Y-yes?" she says.

"You should probably eat some food before you're deprived of it," I say, motioning to her empty plate.

"I have no appetite."

"Then you'll have the biggest appetite you've ever had in a few days."

She rolls her eyes. "I'll find food, don't you worry."

"Chances of it not poisonous are very slim, you know."

"Oh, hush."

I put my hands up in front of me. "Just saying. The Gamemakers wouldn't make our lives that easy."

She shakes her head and goes back to biting her nails. I keep eating until I'm sure I can't eat anymore. I get up to leave, not bothering to talk to anyone on my way out.

I go up to the roof, and look at the beautiful buildings. _I'll probably never see these again_, I think. Not that I would ever want to. I'm sure that if I make it out, I'll never want to come back to the Capitol again, to spare my mental state.

I hear the door open behind me, but I resist the urge to see who it is. Brant stand next to me. "So, this is the last time we'll ever see this skyline, eh?"

I nod. "If one of us gets out, we'll be hoping to never see this place again."

"That doesn't really work when you're going to have to come back every year until someone from your district wins," he reminds me.

Oh yeah.

"I don't know how my brother puts up with seeing this every year," I say. "If I were him, I'd be insane after five years."

"Your brother is stronger than you think he is. He can handle it. You probably can, too. You just don't want to acknowledge it."

I shrug. "How did you think your interview went?"

He makes a face of disgust. "Oh, God, terrible. I bet Panem thinks I'm a morphling addict, just because Caesar asked me about it."

"I thought it was okay," I say.

"Well, that's one person who does."

We talk for hours. He eventually leaves for lunch, but I just stay, looking at the beautiful city. At nearly five o'clock, Remington taps me on the shoulder, interrupting my thoughts.

"Finnick is freaking out because you didn't come to lunch," he says. "He told me that he'd kill you if you did that again without telling him."

"Well, I guess someone is going to beat him to it in the next few days," I remind him. "We are kind of leaving to die tomorrow."

"He knows. I can tell that all he wants right now is to make sure you're safe."

I look up at him. "Well, that's going to be difficult for him, now, isn't it?"

Remington shrugs. "The guy's got power. Not only will you be getting a thousand sponsors because you're his sister, but you'll get a thousand more because you're likeable. I'm sure he'll use anything he can to get you out alive."

"I guess," I say, agreeing. "He has been going all Papa-Bear on me lately."

"Well, that's an example of how much he actually cares."

I nod. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Remington says, "You know that dinner is in a few minutes, right?"

"Hell yes I do. I've been waiting for dinner for the past three hours."

We leave the roof, but not without a parting glance. _So long, cruel world_, I think.

At dinner, things are nearly the same as at breakfast, only about twenty times worse. The only people that are willing to talk are myself and Remington. So, therefore, we have a talk about what the best foods we've ever tasted are.

"I think that we agree that District Four's bread is the best thing in the world," he says, picking at his lamb stew.

"Yeah. This lamb stew comes up to a close second," I add.

That goes on for a while, while everyone else just stares at us, not sure what else to do. When dinner ends, everyone files out in complete silence. The tension is so thick that you can cut it with a knife. It's really hitting people that we're killing each other starting tomorrow.

I go up to my room alone, seeing as Remington wasn't able to fit in my elevator. When I get inside, I stay up and contemplate what the arena is going to be like. Hopefully there will be water. Where there is water, there is fish.

Oh, and something to drink too.

I reluctantly tell my mind to shut up so I can attempt to sleep tonight before I have to go slaughter some citizens. No big deal.

oOo

My dreams are filled with unicorns and flowers.

Okay, that's a lie. I dreamt about dying.

I woke up screaming this morning. I haven't even gotten to the scary part of my life yet, and I'm already having dreams about.

Finnick said last night that he'll be coming in about an hour, so I use this opportunity to shower. I finally decide to wash my hair after standing in the warm water for twenty minutes. In just a few minutes, I'm out and drying my hair.

Finnick comes earlier than anticipated. He brings with him Carina, who has _another_ garment bag. "You're wearing this during all of the games. Undergarments are in here. Just get changed and come when you're ready," she says sullenly.

I do as she says and check out what I'm wearing – low-rise black pants with a stretchy black spaghetti-strap shirt and thin jacket to cover it. I guess either we're going to extremely stick out in our environment, or we're going somewhere that's really, really dark.

I come out of the bathroom and into my room. Carina comes over and annoyingly adjusts my jacket and shirt, and then pins my mother's token to me. "I found it on your nightstand. I thought you might want it while you're in there."

I gratefully nod. "Yeah, I do."

The next few minutes go by in a blur, and before I know it, we're on the ship that's taking me to wherever I'm going. Finnick apparently met up with us to say good-bye.

Carina hugs me before she leaves. "Stick it out, Nimiane. You are so much stronger than they are." She leaves with a tear in her eye and a frown on her face.

Finnick awkwardly walks over. "Nim, I know you'll try your hardest out there. I don't doubt that. But I want you to really think when you are forced to make a decision. Choosing the wrong way to run can cost you your life. And I'll be watching every step of the way, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

He hugs me. "I love you, Nim."

I hug him back. "I love you too, Finnick."

And that was when I was told I have to step onto a little platform that will take me to the games. I do as I'm told and I take my last glance at my brother before my vision of him is cut off by the arena, which looks to be basically all forest, except for the very large Cornucopia, surrounded by weapons.

A voice from overhead starts counting down, and I hold my breath.

"Three," they start.

A moment of silence.

"Two."

I take a stance for running.

"One," they finally say, and I burst out in a sprint toward the Cornucopia.

**Finally, finally, finally. I can get to the fun part! I've been working overtime to get three chapters out in a day, so, yeah. I'll try to get the next one out as soon as possible :D**


	11. Chapter 11

I get to the Cornucopia fairly quickly, but not quick enough to avoid certain death.

Gleam is the only person who got there before me, and he's already chosen his weapon – possibly the biggest spear I've ever seen. And, unfortunately, I come right after him, being his first target.

He comes straight at me as I take a moment to examine the pile of weapons in front of me. I notice him out of the corner of my eye and quickly jump out of his way before he skewers me.

Now I'm starting to see why Finnick wanted me to think.

To avoid any more attacks, I quickly run to the forest behind me, but not before coming in contact with a girl from District Eleven, who I easily knock over by kicking he legs out from under her. I sprint to the trees, and go back as far as my legs are willing to take me – which isn't very far by the looks of it.

I hear footsteps behind me and I panic. All that goes through my mind is _OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod I'm going to die. _And, with that in mind, I climb a tree to avoid whoever it is.

I've seen plenty of reruns of my mother's Hunger Games. But her Bloodbath seemed more… easy to get away from. But I can tell by the people right under my tree – who are looking for me – that this time isn't going to be as easy.

It dawns on me that I'm probably the weakest and therefore easiest to go after because of my lack of weapons. Whoops.

I should've probably gotten one of those.

I could make another one of my makeshift swords, but that would take rope. And I don't have that. I silently pray to the Finnick watching over me that he'll send me rope. "Please," I whisper, not audible enough for the tributes that are now moving on from my tree to hear. I guess the group is the Careers, since they haven't killed each other. Yet.

My suspicions are confirmed when Gleam comes along and joins them after a few minutes, his spear coated in various types of blood. _None of which is mine_, I happily note.

When no one is in sight, and I can't hear anything, I climb down my tree, and head out to the Cornucopia. I don't immediately go out in the open, since that would be like sending a flare up in the air and yelling, "Hey, world! I'm ready to die!" But, by the looks of the several dead bodies and the blood-coated grass, the battling is done here.

I take cautious steps, surveying my surroundings to make sure no one is plotting to kill me. Finnick would probably kill me because of my stupidity right about now, but I don't care. I avoid the bodies, careful not to step on anything that might make a sound. No weapons or resources are in sight.

"Damn," I say under my breath. I start to retreat into the forest when a metallic light catches my eye. A sword is in the hand of a dead tribute, and upon further inspection of the beholder, it turns out to be Brant.

"Oh my God," I say, looking away. I look back and observe his blood-coated hair and face. A gash in his forehead is the source. He's obviously done.

I reach down to pull the sword out of his hands, thinking that he'd want me to have it. But his fingers are tightly gripped around the handle, giving me no chance of getting it. I groan and try to pull harder on his fingers, hoping that I don't pull them completely off.

Suddenly, his eyes open and he quickly strikes my upper arm, leaving a large wound. I cry out in pain, falling to the ground. He then jumps up, and pulls the sword up so that it is poised over his head, ready to strike a fatal blow. But a look of confusion washes over his face as I pull myself up to a sitting position, pained and weak. I use his momentary confusion as an excuse to slip away from him, seeing as he just stands, staring for several seconds. I practically crawl back to the forest, hoping that Finnick has something on the way for me.

My prayers are answered when I climb another tree, which was a difficult feat, and receive a small package wrapped in pure white cloth and tied up with rope. Inside were two things: rope and bandages. I close my eyes and silently thank Finnick. I take a few minutes to bandage my arm, and then I sit to wallow in my thoughts.

So, people are trying to kill me.

Brant faked dead and then tried to kill me.

He's probably out to get me right now.

I pull myself up so that I'm standing up in the tree, and I survey the area. I see no one.

But then a bright flash of green momentarily passes by, and I let out a silent breath of relief. Scarlett hasn't died yet. Yet, at the same time, that upsets me. That means I'll have to get over her later. Or I'll have to kill her.

Either one isn't really a pleasant option to me.

As I sit down, several cannons go off. I know as well as anyone who has ever seen the games that each cannon shot off represents one person dead. I guess there's a delay because of Brant's fake death. They probably wanted to make sure others were actually dead before saying they were.

In the end, the torturous noises total up to eight. Eight dead, in a matter of an hour or so. I feel a mixture of disgust and hatred towards the Capitol, yet relief that I'm not one of them.

I hear a rustling of leaves below me. I look down, preparing for the worst and silently panicking. Luckily, whoever it was passed quickly, but not without having someone following close behind, waiting to kill.

I've nearly died twice today, and been wounded once. I don't think I'm going to go much longer without getting some real damage.

I have a feeling that I'm dying soon.


	12. Chapter 12

I cautiously stayed up in that tree for the rest of the day, not making a single noise. Three more cannons went off during the course of the day, totaling to eleven dead. Thirteen more to go.

In the middle of the night, a bright flashing comes from overhead. I suspect this would have woken anyone on a normal day, but the fear of being wounded is probably keeping us all from sleep tonight. What looks to be a screen of a television forms in the sky, and the Anthem of Panem plays. I silently hum along with the music until it suddenly stops, interrupted by the faces of the dead tributes.

Adan's face is the first to be shown, and I feel a little bad. He seemed like a good guy. The boy from District Five show up, and I don't feel anything. Brant's face shows up, which I assume means that he's actually dead this time.

God, I hope he's dead this time. He gave me a heart attack.

Most of the other faces don't really ring a bell, therefore, I don't care. The Anthem plays once more, and then the arena goes silent.

I noiselessly stand up on my perch and observe the surrounding land, sizing up the arena. All I can see is trees that you would find in the forest, a small, grassland area where the Cornucopia is, and no water in sight. There doesn't seem to be an end to the arena for miles.

I sit back down quickly and do a snappy check for any nearby enemies. With no person in sight, I scurry down the tree and onto the grass below. I tiptoe through the area to find another tree that can support my weight, in hopes that I would throw anyone who knows where I am off of my scent. I locate a large, oak-like tree that has several branches stretching to each side. I do a quick surveillance for anyone else in the tree, and when no one is in sight, I climb up the new tree.

I can barely see through the darkness that clouds the arena. But this doesn't stop me from trying to jump from branch to branch, getting as high up as I can and searching for twigs or boards of wood in the process. I don't find any by the time I'm as high as I can go, so I sit. I reach to my right arm subconsciously when I feel a throbbing pain when it hits the bark in the process.

I lay my head back against the trunk and will myself to sleep. _You need it_, I tell myself. But my brain just won't shut up about how dangerous my situation is, and how I could be gone by morning. The mental battle wages on for what is hours, and the sun comes up after what feels like an eternity.

I hear the movement of the branches below me, and my body goes still. I cautiously – ever so cautiously – turn my head to look down. A tall and stick-thin girl sits a few branches below me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I'm up here. She has thick and wavy brown hair that she had braided down to her lower back. The one thing that really catches my eye about her is the silver charm bracelet on her wrist, covered with several nature-related charms.

Something in the back of my mind tells me that she's trouble. I slowly pull myself into a squatting position, careful not to hit my wound against the tree again. I move to the side of the tree opposite of her, and cautiously scale down the side. I bypass her after a few minutes and continue on my way, being a little less careful about it. That was a mistake.

As soon as I get my head below her branch, she swiftly turns her whole body to see me, and she pulls a nearly invisible dagger out of her jacket and throws it at me in what must have been less than a second or so. I spot it before it implants itself in my forehead and dodge it, slide down the tree quicker than ever.

My feet hit the ground and I burst out in a sprint. Not long after, I hear her footsteps behind me. I speed up, and so does she. I frequently change my pace, and she always matches it. Anger rises in me that I can't shake her. I_'m Finnick freaking Odair's little sister. I should be able to get rid of this girl!_

My rage fuels me to go faster, and the girl speeds up again. A little glimmer of light comes into my view, where something metal seems to be hidden under a small pile of leaves. As I get closer, I see that it is shaped much like a knife, and a little happiness swells up in me. As I run by, I bend down to retrieve the weapon and use a nearby tree to balance myself in the process. I continue running, going faster than ever. I take one look behind me, grip the knife, and throw it at the quickly approaching girl.

She takes a hit to the thigh, and she quickly collapses onto the ground, blood seeping from the tear in her dark pants. I slow down, turn around, and carefully approach her, seeing if she is still conscious. Her closed eyelids and infrequent breathing lead me to take the knife out of her sickening leg before running off.

Hours later, I'm perched up in another tree, not taking my eyes off of the branches below and the rest of the arena. I've tried to recall who the heck that girl was, but I don't know. She doesn't ring a bell. When my brain started to hurt by trying to recall everything that happened leading up to the moment of the Games starting, I decided to stop. But that won't stop me from finding out later.

I sit down and wait for more hours, being as quiet as a mouse. Two cannons have gone off all day. Thirteen gone, eleven alive. I sit and ponder on how soon I'll be killed while cleaning off the blood-stained knife with the bottom of my jacket when the sky gets dark and the Anthem plays. Two boys, one from District Eight and the other from Twelve are the only two onscreen.

I guess my search for this girl will have to wait. Hopefully someone will get to her before she gets to me.


	13. Chapter 13

Things are quiet in the morning. The only audible sound is my breathing and birds chirping, which I find weird in a setting such as this.

I switched trees all night, to prevent any contact with someone again. It's too risky to set up camp anywhere, since people will be on me as fast as you can say "prey". But I need to find a source of water soon, or I'm dead.

Literally.

When the sun rises, I climb down my new tree and am careful to not hit anything that could irritate my wound. I gingerly place my feet on the ground, avoiding anything that would crunch when I step on it. I stand for a moment, listening for sounds of a river or even people around. Someone must have found a body of water. They'd be goners if they haven't already.

Hearing nothing, I shrug and make my way towards what is west from my position. I trudge along, cautious and weary from my long nights of no sleep, and after several minutes, I reach the opening to the Cornucopia.

I was expecting it to be a barren land with no one in sight, but a small camp right next to it proved me wrong. It looked like people were still here, but I couldn't tell. The districts were obviously rich, seeing as they have a luxurious tent. Food seemed to be here, too. But I'm not foolish enough to take another man's food, even if they have plenty to share.

This must be the Career's camp.

I peer across the land, the other side of the forest in sight. If I go around, I could risk further attack and it would take me longer to go across the arena. Besides, I have a weapon now. I can fight the Careers. They aren't even outside to see me.

Mustering up my courage, I step out of the forest and into the grasslands. I gently pull my knife out of my jacket pocket with my good arm, and hold it out in front of me for protection. I tiptoe across the grasslands, but I suddenly stop when I hear a stir in the tent. My eyes dart to the figure emerging from the tent's flaps, my eyes much like a deer in a headlight's.

Gem steps out into the open, her eyes examining me like a doctor would. "Well, foolish, aren't we?" she asks, a triumphant smirk playing across her blood-red lips. "Sister of Finnick Odair, eh? I thought your mother and him would have taught you better about the Games."

Her association of Finnick and me irritates me, and I spit back, "I'm not they're copies, Gem. I'm different. This situation is different."

"Whatever you want to tell yourself," she says, twisting her hair into a bun while talking. "In my eyes, it's the same. There's still twenty-four tributes each year. This is still an arena. We're still fighting for our lives. Well, you are." She gives me a look of disgust. She then motions to the resources behind her. "I'm practically being handed this victory on a silver platter. I'll come out of here without a scar."

She continues on this rant about how low I am in comparison to her while I slowly inch backwards towards the place I wanted to go to in the first place. She notices and suddenly pulls out her dagger. "You could still join us, Nimiane," she says sweetly, which doesn't work for her because of her wielding of weaponry. She drops her dagger on the ground and holds out her hand. "What do you say?"

"Seeing as you just insulted me beyond comprehension, I'd rather not," I snarl.

She shrugs. "Have it your way, then."

In one swift motion, she picks up her dagger, darts towards me, and stabs at my shoulder. I dodge her blow and strike at her waist, drawing blood. I turn to run, but Gem is fast enough to recover from her pain and slashes at my lower leg, causing a sharp pain to go through my leg. Heat drips down my skin and soaks the legs of my pants. But I don't stop to do damage control. I do as I intended, which was running.

Gem isn't reluctant to follow. We make a lot of noise while dodging trees and attempting to kill each other. After a while of running, I come upon a river that is too wide for me to cross. I skid to a stop and examine the water, seeing if I could swim across. Gem's footsteps halt when she see's I've stopped.

"It's the end of the line!" she shouts, putting her arms out to emphasize her point. "You might as well kill yourself now. There's no way you're getting around this river."

I take a reluctant look towards the river. "I don't know, Gem. I think things are going pretty good for me right now." I look back at her. "Where are the rest of your Career freaks, anyways? Abandon you for a Morphling addict or something?"

Her jaw tightens. "They left to go find tributes to kill. I was looking, too, but I got hungry and decided to guard camp."

"And how's that going?"

"I'd say I'm going to have the best kill out of them all."

She then steps forward and stabs at my stomach, which I anticipated. Her blade doesn't even touch me before I jump into the rapid river, floating downstream. Gem steps towards the edge of the river, fear suddenly apparent in her eyes. She lets out a noise of exasperation that I'm sure can be heard from anywhere in the arena. "Mark my words, Nimiane; I will be the one to kill you!"

I roll my eyes and give her a mocking wave, and then I turn to swim downstream.


	14. Chapter 14

After a few minutes of floating with the current, I decide that it's time to get out. The current is swift, but not so swift that I can't stop myself against a rock. Struggling a little with my throbbing arm wound, I find a large rock and catch it before it passes. I pull myself up and out of the water.

I sit for a moment, feeling a little dizzy from the sudden lack of movement. When the world stops spinning, I struggle to my feet, the water that's soaked my clothes weighing me down. I strip of my jacket in an attempt to dry it quicker.

Sighing a little with dread, I trudge down the river to see if I can find any shelter. Not only did the lovely swim and the excessive running tire me out, but I can't sleep without feeling like someone is going to attack me. Call me crazy.

Sighing, I check a tree for the fiftieth time. No one up there. Looks stable. "Why not?" I quietly mumble, tying my jacket around my waist so my hands are free to climb the tree. The rough bark scratches against my skin and my arm feels like it's going to fall off, but I manage to get high enough to not be visible. I untie my jacket and place it on the edge of the branch to dry it off.

A sudden thirst that's been gnawing at me for hours hits me as soon as I make myself comfortable. The sound of the rushing river nearby doesn't help. At all.

Groaning, I stand up to see if anyone is passing by. I need to get to the river and back before anyone notices. No one is in sight, and I make my way down the tree. I gently place my feet on the ground, carefully avoiding the crunching of leaves that I could cause.

When I reach the river, I suddenly realize that I should probably stock up on water. But, alas, I don't have a container to hold the precious liquid. I rapidly blink in annoyance, searching for something to hold it in. The sun beats down on me, and my mind screams, "Get the water because you're really hot, Nim!" At last, I give up. I sit on my knees and dip my hands in the cool water, forcing myself to drink it. Expecting it to be salt water or poisoned, I brace myself for the worst, only tasting fresh water. I sigh with satisfaction and relief.

When I'm done drinking, I look up towards the sky, hoping that that's where the cameras are. I say, "Well, gee, it'd sure be great to have something to contain this water in." Expecting an immediate response like when I received the rope and bandages, I wait, hopeful. Nothing comes. I give an angry look to the sky and turn back to my tree.

You can't always get what you want, I guess.

When I'm back up in the tree, I feel sleepy. The mixture of tiredness and soreness and a satisfied stomach cause my eyelids to drop down, unable to hold up their own weight anymore. I reluctantly let myself rest for the first time in days.

oOo

Hours later, I wake up. And my jacket is gone.

And my jacket had my knife in it.

Somebody is either really stupid or they're just trying to make me angry.

I resist the urge to scream, knowing I'm defenseless and can't afford to face the consequences it brings. I angrily sit Indian style, close my eyes, and rub my temples. Whoever this crook is, I'm _so_ killing them.

And, yes Panem, I'll make it gruesome. Just for your pleasure.

I climb down the tree, and my vision gets a little spotty from the sudden movements. But, after waiting a risky second for it to go away, I move on, following the river downstream. It's dark enough that I can't see my hand right in front of me, so I'm extra cautious. I feel a little cold from the night air, but my rage from losing my weapon and my source of warm helps me to ignore it.

The Anthem starts playing overhead, but I keep going, not stopping to even respect our country. Not after what it's done to half of the kids in the arena. Not after the day I've had. Three faces show up, none familiar to me.

I shrug off the little delay in my journey and keep going, extra careful when maneuvering around. I get a little loose with my motions after a while, not really paying attention to where I'm going. I just assume no one can see me, when, in reality, I'm in plain freaking sight. My dark clothing doesn't really help since all the skin on my arms and upper chest is extremely white in the moonlight, making me stick out like a sore thumb.

After a while, I hear a little crunch in the distance, and I freeze. I cautiously turn my head around, trying to see what made the noise. The darkness prevents me from this, however, making me as blind as a bat. I give up trying to see what it is and just try to figure out what it is by the sounds it makes.

It could be a tribute. Or a mutation. I'd rather go with the mutation, personally.

I swear, I think I'm going to die of a heart attack. It's probably beating about forty times faster and louder than a normal heart should. I bet I'll die before they get to me.

Oh, God. I hope I die before they get to me. That seems better than dying painfully.

I decide to move on, since standing here for this long is making me feel like I have ADHD. But I'm not as messy about how I move. I make my motions swift, well thought-out, and unpredictable, just in case whatever is near is trying to figure out what I'll do. I go on for a few minutes, and I don't hear another noise other than the soft patter of my feet and the quiet river. I let out an inward sigh of relief and keep going on as I was before.

After a few minutes, though, I feel a small tap on the shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around and swing my arms around in a rather ungraceful motion that earns whoever it was a slap to the face and a punch to the stomach. They stagger backwards in a mixture of shock and pain.

I stand over them. "How do you like that?" I say, triumphant.

"Not very much," the familiar voice admits. A look of confusion comes across my face until I realize that I just slapped Remington.

I've wanted to do that for months.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh, God," I say, rushing over to him. Right before I reach him, though, I draw back from my impulsive will to help. "Trying to kill me?"

"I was actually trying to surprise you, believe it or not," he says, rubbing his cheek where I slapped him. "You hit hard. _Really_ hard."

"I've had practice," I say sarcastically. "You know, I've trained everyday for this moment. The moment where I get to hit you as hard as I can without a second thought."

He nods. "Mhm. Well, this is certainly going to hurt in the morning." He then makes a face of fake confusion. "Oh, wait! It's already morning."

I shrug. "How are you holding up?" I ask, referring to the past few days.

"Starving, but this is the only time I've been wounded yet."

I show him the bandages on my arm. "Join the party. Brant played dead and slashed me in the arm. Luckily, he's gone."

"Good riddance," Remington says. "That boy was too good looking to be real."

"Must've been the drugs."

He laughs. "So, what are we going to do about this?"

"About what?" I ask, an eyebrow raised. Not that he can see it.

"About us meeting up. I bet it'll turn some heads. We need to figure out what we're doing."

I walk over to a nearby tree and say, "Well, first, we make shelter. That'll be this tree for now."

Remington nods and follows me. I climb up and he tries his best to stay behind me. "And then what?"

"And we can stay together and wait out the games. We could split up after a few days or a week or so. It doesn't really matter to me," I suggest.

"That sounds good. What'll we do about food?"

I reach for the knife that is in the jacket that I'm not wearing. "Do you have a weapon?" I ask, disappointed that I don't.

He shrugs. "Unless you count my devilishly good looks, then no."

I roll my eyes. "Well, we should probably get one of those. Or some rope so I can make a net."

"What, Finnick didn't get you a rope?" he asks.

"Oh, he got me one. But someone stole it, along with my jacket and my knife."

"And you're going to kill them when you get your hands on them?"

"No, I was going to give them twice the amount of prize money and let them kill me, all in one package."

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, rolling his eyes.

We sit in the branches and talk in hushed tones for an hour or so. When the sun comes up, both of us are completely silent, like we're waiting for someone to come. We're anticipating for something important to happen.

"I'm starving," Remington finally says. "We need to find food. Like, now."

"Suck it up, Remington. Are you a boy or a man?" I jokingly say.

"Well, I'm a boy. A growing one, to be specific. Ever heard of growing boys need to get their nutrients?"

"I have never heard that in my life."

He shrugs. "Well, that's probably because you're not a growing boy."

I chuckle. "Whatever. If we had a freaking weapon, we could actually do stuff instead of sitting around all day. Last time I sat in a tree, someone else sat in the tree and I ended up stabbing her in the leg."

"Did you get it at the Cornucopia?" he asks, fidgeting with his shirt.

"No, I found it in some random pile of leaves," I say, not thinking about it at all. "It just seemed to pop up when I needed it, too. I didn't see it until I was desperate for something to protect myself with."

Remington's head pops up. "Maybe that's the big thing with the arena this year."

"What?"

"Some arenas have drastic climate change, some have mutations, some have natural disasters. Maybe this year's thing is actually helpful," he says, assessing it. "Maybe the weapons are supposed to pop up when we need them. It's to make the Games more interesting, I bet."

I sit and think about it. "It does seem like a weird move that the Gamemakers would make, now that you mention it."

"So, maybe if one of us gets into a situation where we need a weapon to protect ourselves-"

"Then we'll get the weapon and be able to do all sorts of things with it?" I ask. "I don't know. That seems kind of risky. And very flawed. How would they even be able to get the weapons in the arena without us noticing?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that they're there," Remington says.

I sigh. It's worth a shot.

"I'll do it," I say, already sliding down the side of the tree.

"Try not to die!" Remington says from his perch.

I roll my eyes and laugh. "I think that would've been one of my instincts without your reminder," I call.

I take off, making my way to the east of my position. I went west to get to the river, so east must be back to the Cornucopia. I can even see a little map in my head, a little blue dot on it showing where I am and where I'm going. It moves as I move, and is never inaccurate.

I trudge on for a while, not paying attention to time or position or if I see or hear anything. I just keep going, ignoring it all. My feet start to hurt, but I ignore it. I even get to the point where I have to start wincing before I take a break from the continuous walking. I find a fallen tree and sit on its truck, assessing my feet for wounds and checking my arm. When my feet don't throb as much as they did before, I get back up and keep on walking.

I reach the clearing where the Career camp is after some time. No one seems to be here. Their food is gone. But the tent still stands tall, and has probably been put to good use after all these days of homicide and gore.

I feel a look of dread come over my face as I decided that I'll cross through here, the memories of my last encounter with Gem filling my head. "Here we go again," I say, bracing for the worst as I step out into the open.


	16. Chapter 16

Nothing happens.

I stand for a few seconds, my eyes closed so tight that not even a pry bar could open them. I tense up, anticipating something to happen. But nothing does. I let out a sigh of relief and disappointment.

I cautiously make my way across the clearing, trying not to be seen. I hear a little crunch and I jump around, only to discover that I'd just stepped on a tiny stick. I try to look for any weapons just lying around that I can take, but nothing comes up. I let out a small noise of exasperation.

Well, that was a waste.

I make it across the clearing, unscathed and quite a bit peeved at my lack of success. Maybe I do have to be in danger for stuff to pop up. Remington's right. With that in mind, I move on, seeing if there's any other trouble I can get myself into.

_Heh. I sound like the exact opposite of everyone else in the history of the Hunger Games._

I let out a snort of laughter at the thought of it, but immediately stop myself. No need to give myself away this quick.

I walk until the sun goes down, which is a while. There's no sign of life around me, and I get annoyed after every minute of no bounty. You'd think you'd be able to find someone in this endless arena, seeing as there are eight of us left, but nooooo.

Still, I go on until my eyelids start to droop and I know I have to find somewhere to stay. _Not a tree tonight_, I think quietly, nodding with agreement. _I need a real place to sleep._

My prayers are answered when I spot a small hole in the ground, covered over the edges with leaves. Lots and lots of leaves. At first I think it to be a mere rabbit hole or something of the sort, but then I step on some of the leaves and they fall down into the much bigger hole that has presented itself. My foot also went along for the ride, cause me to become unbalanced and to fall on my butt. I silently curse to myself and try not to rub my pained rear – I mean, all of Panem is watching, so I might as well try to be decent – and inspect the hole. I brush the other leaves that surround it away. And there's a large hole, big enough for an obese person to slide through and into what lies below the ground.

I reluctantly slide my legs in, thinking that I'm either going to die or that I've found the find of the century. I keep my limbs as close to me as the space permits, in case there are mutations in here. But there aren't. A dim light shines from the far side of the underground cave, but the room is otherwise bare. I feel a smile coming on and I can't help but to jump a little as I step down and into the cave. I start to move around, but then a small crunch sounds from under my feet, and I realize I'm standing on a patch of grass that matches the grass surrounding the hole's opening. _Someone is really trying to help me out here_, I think as I place the patch over the opening to find that it fits perfectly.

I turn to the barren space. Again I feel the smile come back to me. But then I feel a rush of guilt and immediately feel bad for leaving Remington out in the wilderness. "Finnick, can you send him something to get him to know I'm fine? I'd like that, please," I say to the hidden cameras in the sweetest voice I ever could, laced with demands and an edge. I can practically see Finnick using sponsors to get on it right now.

I sit opposite of the now covered opening, my back up to the dirt walls and my eyes alert. If anyone finds me or tries to get in, I'll know. I'm not planning on dying today.

Unfortunately, that doesn't stop my eyelids from lowering father down than ever before, finally closing and giving me the sweet yet worrisome satisfaction of slumbers.

oOo

Hours later, I wake up to complete silence. I've never been so scared in my life to be engulfed in it.

I groan as I pull myself into a crouching position and then to a standing position. My back feels a small pang of pain and I instinctively reach towards the area to hold it and somehow make it all better, but I hit my wounded arm against the brown dirt walls and instead reach there. I luckily don't feel as much pain as I did yesterday or the day before when I hit it, but it still hurts.

I decide to take off the bloody bandages, thinking it would be all healed just because of the strips of cloth that held it in place. It looked much better than it had when Brant had decided to slash at me, considering that the cut was somewhat closing and the blood has been coming off mysteriously. But I'm not one to question healing, since I've never had any experience with it. This will have to do for now.

I toss the bandages aside and walk over to the patch of grass, opening it up and letting the sunlight shine in my face. I must've slept all through the night.

I stand for a few moments, not even thinking of the danger I'm putting myself in, just soaking up some rays. My stomach growls, and I reluctantly turn away from the sun to look down at my stomach, willing it to suddenly be full and to not complain anymore. But your organs are not to be argued with, which I learned when my stomach went on and on about how hungry it was. Meanwhile, I'm still standing around in the opening to the light, contemplating what to do. When it growls for what must be the hundredth time, I let out a scream of exasperation.

A _loud_ scream of exasperation.

Suddenly, I hear a cannon shoot off, kind of foreshadowing what will happen if I stay out any longer without any food. "Please, _please_ Finn. District Four bread. Anything to feel like I'm going to not be hungry for days!" I whisper, knowing he can hear me.

Another cannon goes off, and I retreat into my lair, trembling from the loud noise and the thought that someone I actually care about could have died.

I silently think to myself, _Eighteen down, six to go._

**Well, yay! I haven't been able to write for a little while due to several projects that all clash together on the same quarter, but those are finally over! So, yeah, I'll try to crank out some more chapters soon!**


	17. Chapter 17

I went through the day hungry and fearful. I constantly came out of my underground cave, hoping that Finnick actually listened to me for once, giving into my pleas. But nothing came.

For the billionth time today, I get up to go see if I have any anticipated food, but nothing is there. My stomach and I groan in unison. I just want food! Is that too much to ask for?

I go back inside and sit on the hard floor, examining the open hole across from me. I feel a little hopelessness grow in me, but I push it down. I will not go out and search. Either Finnick helps me or I die.

_That must sound really lethargic_.

I hear a little sound outside of my burrow, kind of like something hitting the grass, and I eagerly jump up to get it. The smell of bread and fruits hits my nose before I'm even halfway out of the room. I greedily snatch up the large parcel from the sky and smile at the sky. _Thanks, Finnick_.

I run back inside, covering the hole this time before sitting. I until the well-done knot – must be a special hello from Finnick or something, because these are really complex ones – and examine the food. I can feel the drool fall out of my mouth at just the sight of the specimens.

There's bread. Lots of bread. All from District Four, too. My smile widens. And there are two or three apples, oranges, and assorted berries to add onto that.

This situation just got about twenty times better.

I decide not to eat it all, because that would totally not go over well with my future starving self, so I instead eat the smallest slice of bread and some berries. No more. _You have to restrict yourself, Nimiane_, I tell myself.

Eating's going to be really hard.

Scratch that.

_Everything_ is going to be really hard.

oOo

Later, the Anthem plays in the night. I stick my head out of the hole in the ground, watching.

First to come up is the girl from district two, Matilda. My expression turns stony at the sight of a career. She looks as happy as ever, her blonde hair flowing behind her and her smile bright and cheerful for someone who was picked to be in the games. I feel a little envious at her optimism about it all, but I stop myself from finding other things to be jealous of.

The next person comes up and I just stare at the screen. The face of Remington stares right back at me, giving a sly smile that Ingrid would have gone crazy for when they dated. His bronze hair is tousled, and his eyes are apparently tired and bloodshot. Why, I don't know. Probably because I was being terrible towards him.

I go back into my lair before the anthem plays again, and I put my back against the dirt wall, sliding down to the ground. I make no effort to show emotion, only knowing Panem will make a big show out of it. I can practically see the Capitol freaks crying because they think I'm so torn up about Remington's death.

I feel somewhat bad, though. I mean, I was supposed to go back and tell him if I found anything, which I obviously did. But I never came back. He could still be alive if I did, too.

I wonder how he died. Matilda seemed to die at the same time, since the cannons went of literally one second after the other. Maybe Matilda stabbed him, and maybe he retaliated by stabbing her with the same blade? I ponder on this for some time, losing my valuable sleep for the night.

When I give up, I think on who could be left. I know Scarlett is still out there, and I'm obviously still alive. I haven't found out who that girl with the charm bracelet is, so she must be out there. Gem is out there, too. So that's four. The other two must be the other careers, Gleam and Alexx, must be the others, because I can't specifically recall them on the screen in the sky. And that's our six, I guess.

Three careers, one enemy, and one friend. The odds are certainly not in my favor.

oOo

The next day, sweating and panting, I wake from troubled slumbers. I rush towards my food, my stomach growling and myself confused due to the mesh of random past dreams that I just endured. I eat an apple and some bread, not tasting anything. When done, I tie the remains up in the cloth they came to me in, leaving them here for a later time. I rise and move the patch of grass, revealing the sunlight and trees. I step out of the cave, covering the hole with grass, hoping no one finds out about my discovery.

I decide that I need a weapon, and then I need to go slaughter some citizens. Might as well try to get out, instead of boring myself to death in a dark hole in the ground, right? With that in mind, I go on in a random direction, not caring where I go as long as I find someone or something.

Minutes are spent in silence, feeling more like hours as I pass by numerous trees, all identical. I'm convinced that I'm never going to find anything until I see someone sitting on the ground, in the middle of a few trees, calmly waiting for something. I approach her slowly, noticing her familiar brown, wavy hair that is unruly due to the past braid it was once in. Her leg is coated in dried blood, and her breathing is slow.

She hears me and turns her head, not registering shock when she sees me. In fact, she smiles. Not a sly, I'm-out-to-get-you-smile, but a warm, welcoming one. "I see you're back for more," she says, patting to the ground beside her.

I walk so I'm near her, but I certainly don't sit or anything. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting. Thinking."

"Like I couldn't tell," I say, sarcastically. "I'm Nimiane."

"I know," she says, turning to me, so I can see her. "I'm Skye. District Five."

We make small talk for a while, not really comprehending anything the other is saying. Midst conversation, I see a small, shiny piece of metal on the ground, behind Skye. It's a knife, just like the one I found when I first met her. Under it is a jacket.

_My_ jacket.

A rage fuels up in me, and I swiftly reach down to pick up the dagger, forcefully pushing it into Skye's back while she is talking. Almost immediately, the blood starts pouring out of her back, and she falls over, mid-sentence. A cannon goes off, and I feel a little disgust run through my veins.

I just killed someone for the first time.

And she seemed to want me to.

**FACT: A large portion of this chapter was written while listening to "I'll Make a Man Out of You". Be jealous.**

**Hey, you. Yeah, you. You should totally go and read Secrets by bandgeek1314. Go. DO IT. I'll love you forever? **


	18. Chapter 18

I don't think for a few moments, just staring at Skye's limp and lifeless body. I don't register guilt or pain or regret. I'm somewhat relieved.

And that's when I feel like a terrible person.

A cannon goes off. I feel tears come to my eyes, but I force them down, refusing to cry. Instead, I pull out the bloody knife, take my jacket, and walk away. I take a look back at the mess I've made, but nothing is there.

_Well, at least you got your jacket back!_ my brain optimistically says.

"Yeah, great," I mumble to myself.

I walk on, looking for some more trouble I can throw myself into. Nothing pops up, but occasionally there's an animal here or there and I start to panic. Then I return to my calm and collected self, moving on.

I start to consider going back to my cave instead of risking getting killed, but I'm sick of waiting. The relief I felt after Skye's end is coming back, and I crave more of it. I have to go find more people.

I feel a little bit like a madwoman, like killing people is going to make me feel better, when it really isn't. It just makes people dead. I tell myself that over and over, but I just can't seem to understand that I should stop and minimize the amount of time that I could die, as well as others.

But my mind keeps saying _go go go_!

Obviously, my mind won.

I find myself traveling around until nightfall, when my will to kill suddenly dwindles and my sleep mode turns on. I lunge myself at a tree, swiftly checking it for predators and climbing it. When at the top, I fall asleep while waiting for the anthem to come on.

When it finally does, I'm jostled from my sleep and a little irritated because this is the one time that I'm not having nightmares in the past day or so. I tap my fingers impatiently on the bark of the branch I'm stretched out on, wanting the show to get over with and for myself to fall back asleep. Skye's face flashes across the screen, not smiling or even trying to look good for all of Panem. It's obvious she resented the idea of the Games, just by looking at her stony expression. She must have reevaluated her situation to let me kill her so easily.

I push that thought out of my head, not wanting to relive it.

Out of nowhere, President Snow's face appears on the screen, bright and cheerful – or at least in comparison to what he usually looks like. My eyes widen at this random occurrence, but then I realize that it must be time for the feast. Usually, there's one every year. Why should this year be an exception?

Snow says, "Tributes! It's time for the one thing that everyone looks forward to every year!" He pauses a moment for dramatic effect. "The feast!"

I groan a little.

"We have food this year," he goes on, "just like most other years. Most of you need it. _Most_ of you," he repeats. "Now, I don't think Nimiane needs it, eh? I mean, she has a whole secret cave of food and everything… She's been doing pretty well, everyone. But that certainly doesn't mean that she can't come. You're all invited!"

The anthem cuts him off, and my face flushes. I try to restrain from hitting my head against the tree, but that doesn't stop me from punching it, making my knuckles bloody almost immediately.

"_Damn it_!" I scream, not caring anymore.

I hate the Capitol.

I hate President Snow – everyone does.

But I'll go to his little feast. As long as there are other people there to take my anger out on, I'll certainly be going.

oOo

Soundlessly, I travel through the forest, anticipating what will happen at the feast.

Maybe I'll kill someone. Or maybe someone will kill me.

I wonder if the Careers are together still. Maybe they'd all gang up on me and take me out, effortlessly.

Just the thought of seeing Gem fills me with rage. If I end up having to use my knife, I hope it's on her and not Scarlett.

Oh, God. Scarlett.

I get a little worked up over it all, and when I see the Cornucopia, I get a little anxious for it to all be over.

_Just take the food, and run_, I tell myself in my head, trying to convince me that I won't have to kill anyone.

I'm not sure my brain understands the whole, try-to-survive-and-not-kill-others-idea.

At the edge of the forest, I can see a few pairs of eyes peeking out from behind the trees, eying the food gathered around the Cornucopia. I try to figure out who is who, but the dark shadows that surround them all don't help. I small noise of exasperation comes out of my mouth subconsciously.

One of them steps into the sunlight, cautiously looking around to see if we're going to follow suit. When I get a closer look of him, it turns out that it's Gleam. He looks behind him, pleading for the person he was with to come out. A grumbling Alexx comes out of the forest, fear apparent in his blue eyes. He looks just like Matilda, only a boy and more fit for the Peacekeepers, with his buzz-cut blonde hair and scarred face.

I look around before following them out, staring them down.

"Hi," I say, my heart beating in my ears. My acknowledgement comes out more as a squeak than anything else, due to wariness and intimidation.

"Hi," Gleam says back, taking notice to me being here. "Secret stash of food, eh?"

"I left that place behind two days ago."

"Then it'll certainly be easier to get in, now, won't it?"

"I suppose so. But I really only think the portions I had left would barely fill you for an hour," I lie. My stomach grumbles at the thought of District Four bread and fresh fruits.

Gleam and Alexx start to the Cornucopia, cautiously gathering food in their arms. I do the same.

Another person steps out into the open, fidgeting with her hair. "Nim," she says, and I turn, not stopping my gathering.

"Scarlett," I say in the same, nervous tone she used. "I see things are going fine?"

"I suppose," she says, bending over the food in front of her, her amazement that there is actually food to eat apparent.

"I told you that you should have eaten breakfast," I joke, seeing her expression of glee.

She rolls her eyes. "I had food before, Nim. I just haven't had any for the past three days."

We go on for a few more minutes, still uncomfortable and nervous. Gleam and Alexx get as much as they can, and head back out towards the forest. They stop in their tracks, though, when they look behind us. Scarlett and I take immediate notice, turning to look as well.

Apparently I didn't turn fast enough to dodge Gem's blade cutting into my thigh, filling me with searing pain and agony.

**Hey, you guys! There's **_**a Very Potter Musical**_** reference in this chapter! *insert fangirl squeal here* If you haven't watched it, do so, and I will love you forever. Please…? **

**And I also just realized how close we are to the end! *tear-jerking moment* Now I'm going to need to make up another idea…. Oh gosh. This shall be plaguing my mind for forever…**

**AND (you must hate me for making this really long) go read **_**Secrets**_** by bandgeek1314. Do it. Now. (That is, if you didn't do that **_**the last time I told you to**_**…) *evil glare* Please… Again?**


	19. Chapter 19

I attempt not to fall to save my public image as an invincible force, but I still end up falling flat on my face. I struggle to get back up as Gem looks at me, amused.

Scarlett runs to me, seeing if I'm okay. Alexx and Gleam both pull out their weapons – Gleam has a spear and Alexx has a sword. They advance on Gem, and she sarcastically says, "For all I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"

They both have looks of anger cross their faces as they looks to each other, silently communicating a battle strategy.

"I mean, Gleam, buddy," Gem says, walking over to him and putting her arm around his shoulder. He pulls away out of instinct, a look of disgust easy to see on his chiseled face. "We've known each other since we were seven! Imagine how much my family will hate your poor little clan if you come back and I don't. Not to mention, my family can take yours out in a second."

I may not know Gleam very well – or at all – but it's apparent that he certainly doesn't want Gem's family anywhere near his own. You can practically see him bubbling with hatred, trying to find the courage to strike at her.

I feel Scarlett touching my hand during Gem's rant about how rich she is and how powerful her family is. I look over to her, and she motions to give my knife to her. I slowly pull it out of my jacket pocket, a little wary at first but then seeing why she might want it. Scarlett takes it from me, standing up to go join Gleam and Alexx.

"Remember that time when your house caught on fire, and your sister died, Gleam?" Gem reminds him, taunting him with the past. "It can happen again. And again. _And again_."

Gleam's face turns to one of rage, and he thrusts his spear at her. Gem dodges it with ease, and she laughs a bit. Alexx slashes at her arm. Gem dodges him but takes a slash to her chest from Scarlett, falling to the ground. Blood gathers in crimson pools around her, and her eyes don't blink or move or anything.

"Is she dead?" Alex asks, standing over her.

Gleam lifts his spear and pierces her chest again, probably hitting several vital organs. "Now she is."

A cannon goes off, and we all feel a little relief. And I feel somewhat useless.

I struggle over to them, trying to get a better look than what I had before. Gem's skin is getting a sickly pale color, and she looks absolutely lifeless. But that's probably because she's dead.

Just taking a guess there.

We all awkwardly stand for a minute, staring at Gem and each other.

"So," I uncomfortably say.

"Four of us left, huh?" Gleam says, equally as weird.

"So it seems."

I look towards Scarlett's hand, where my knife is. "Can I have my knife back?" I sheepishly ask.

Scarlett nods without looking at me. "Be my guest."

I take it, whipping the blood onto my pants, and placing it once again in my pocket, where it once was before. I step back, trying not to get blood on my shoes. "Well, later guys," I say, walking backwards towards the forest.

The rest of them follow suit. "Yeah, later," Alexx says.

We all head separate directions. I turn as soon as I hit the forest and I try to find my old cave, since I realize none of us even had the chance to gather food.

"Bread and fruit that's several days old can't be bad, right?" I quietly ask myself, searching around for any familiar settings.

oOo

At the end of the day, I climb a tree, hungry and restless. Pain shoots through me when my thigh touches the rough bark, but I try my best to ignore it.

The anthem plays at the same time it always does, and nothing unexpected comes across the screen. Just Gem's cold and heartless face.

I fell asleep soon after, my mind plagued with thoughts of death and gore. I dream of home and happiness, surprisingly.

_I'm sitting on a boat, in the middle of the water, fishing. Someone else came out on the water with me, as far as I can tell from the pair of unfamiliar shoes sitting in the bottom of the boat. _

_ I feel a tug on my line, and I vigorously pull up whatever is on the hook. A massive fish of all the colors of the rainbow flies out of the water, making me smile at the rare sight. These types of fish barely ever come to District Four, nevertheless to me._

_ Someone's feminine hands grab onto the side of the boat, attempting to pull them self up. I rush over to help. After I pull the girl into the boat, I get a good look at her and my heart soars._

_ It's my mom, Meri Odair. She has short bronze hair that is tangled and soaking wet from her swim; her eyes are a darker sea green than everyone else's, with a few flecks of gold here or there; and she is tan and has freckles all over her face, due to her time in the sun. On her shoulder, you can visibly see a scar starting there and running to her mid back, due to her time in the Hunger Games. She can sometimes get a little insane due to her experiences in the arena, but she has learned to majorly over take them with good memories of her family and friends._

_ "That's a big one you got there, Nim!" she says, a huge smile on her face. "I've never seen one like that before, except for one I had for dinner in the Capitol."_

_ I feel a little pang of sadness at the mention of the Capitol, but I shrug it off. "Neither have I!"_

_ "We could surely get a lot for that at the market, I'm positive," she says, closely examining it. "Maybe Finnick can take it with him the next time he goes?" she then asks, looking at me for approval of selling it._

_ "Sure," I say, while placing it gingerly on a cloth that lies next to me. I tie it up with a rope, checking to see if it'll hold._

_ "Let's get back to shore," she says, looking at the clouds forming overhead. "I think it's going to rain soon."_

_ "Okay," I respond, putting down my fishing rod and standing up to direct the sail of our rich man's boat the right way, so we go back to shore._

_ The wind suddenly picks up, and Mom says, "I told you so," like a child. I stick out my tongue playfully at her. The sail starts to get out of my grasp, and I groan a little, trying to catch it as it blows in circles. "A little help, Mom?" I ask, jumping up to catch the sail. She laughs and smiles, telling me I have to do it._

_ I jump up again and reach out to get the sail. It doesn't stop moving, so I'm taken along for the ride. I subconsciously let go, not even realizing I'm falling until my body is soaked and I can't breathe._


	20. Chapter 20

I wake in a whirlpool of water, sputtering and soaked, just like in my dream.

My eyes sting from the salt-water and a bitter taste is left in my mouth. The tide pulls me back and forth, easily hurting me and making it nearly impossible to get out. I use all my might to swim away from this mess, but nothing helps.

After a minute, I give up and try to be as still as possible so I can get a look at the arena. It's all covered in water. There's no way Alexx, Gleam, or Scarlett got out of it if I couldn't.

I kick my legs up in an attempt to float, which works. I go along with the waves until I start to wonder where the water is going to go. And where _I'm_ going to go.

I get a little panicky and frantically look around to figure out where I'm going, but nothing helps. I spot a tree passing by, and I throw myself at it, clinging to it. I wait for several minutes, observing the water's decreasing height. When the height becomes about ankle-deep, I let go of the tree and place my feet on the ground, feeling like its moving. After a minute, I regain balance and start to walk around. My thigh stings from the salt-water and throbs from the walking, but I don't stop to check up on it.

After a while, I come across a hole in the ground, filled with water.

_My_ hole in the ground, I confirm upon the sight of bread and fruit floating around in the hundreds of pounds of water.

_That's weird_, I think. _This can't be the only spot that has all the water. There was so much more than what would fill just this cave._

I go out on a search for other holes, pondering what just happened.

The Gamemakers flood the arena.

There are holes in the ground that conveniently can hold several hundred pounds of this water.

After a while I piece together that they're trying to weed us out, since we didn't kill each other when we all had the chance. If we weren't smart enough to hold onto something, we would have drowned in these holes of water.

I come across several other holes during my journey, which appear to be untouched except for the flooding.

So, these were here the entire time, and I was the only one who noticed them.

Mysterious.

I walk on, trying to find all of the holes and see if anything got washed away into them that might be useful. Along the way, I hear a cannon, and I stop in my tracks. Who is it for?

oOo

Hours later, I've managed to get myself totally lost and irritated due to my lack of success. It's getting dark, or at least my eyes are finally giving out and deciding to misconceive colors when I'm probably going to need them the most. I decide that I need shelter, and I'm certainly not jumping into one of the water holes, so I climb a tree for the billionth time.

Once up, I check my wound, but not bothering to ask for help from sponsors or even clean up the blood. It's no use, by the looks of it.

There seems to be maybe an hour until I can know who died and who didn't, so I try to think of what I can do to occupy myself up here. _Maybe I can amputate my leg_, I think sarcastically. Instead, I pull out my knife and start carving random stuff into a tree.

I think about all those cheesy couples who carve their initials into a tree and think about how "romantic" it is, and decide to make a little tribute to a special friend of mine.

When finished, the tree has a heart on it, with "Ingrid + Remington" inside of it. I'm honoring the dead and my best friend.

I get another idea, and start carving. I smile when it's done. A heart with "Capitol + Districts" in it. And then I put a huge X over it, satisfied with my act of rebellion. Not the most extreme there ever was, but it will have to do.

The anthem plays soon after, and I crane my neck just to see the screen through the trees. The fact that comes up is Alexx's stern one, as determined and unreadable as ever. It's not Scarlett, so I'm okay.

I don't sleep at all. Maybe it's the worry of drowning or the fear of just being dead overall.

When the sun comes up, I jump down from my tree and go in search of food – which doesn't seem very easy to find since it probably all got washed away with the flood and Alexx.

I've come to think that Alexx died during the flood. I mean, the cannon sounded after the flood drained away, am I right?

I get tired really easily and decide that I should sleep for the first time in a day or so. It can't do me harm, right? I mean, there are two other people in this huge arena. They probably won't find me.

Wrong.

oOo

Waking up is the worst.

You're groggy, you can barely see when you get up, and you are undeniably slow.

But that doesn't stop me from jumping up and having a short sensation of vertigo when I hear the crunching of leaves and footsteps.

My mind screams _idiot idiot idiot idiot_, and I smack myself in the head for my stupidity.

I then look around slowly, not try to draw any more attention. I grab my knife and pull it out of my pocket, ready for action.

The footsteps are heavy and not sneaky at all, so I can easily deduce that it's a guy. I turn to my right, where I think the noises are coming from, my heart beating faster than a cheetah can run. When Gleam jumps out of the trees, that's not what surprises me. What surprises me is that he does so from the opposite direction his footsteps were coming from.

He looks bloodthirsty and full of anger, and I don't blame him. I mean, we have been stuck in here for days on end. We all have that right to be tired and full of rage. Plus, he probably saw Alexx die – and Alexx seemed to be his ally.

I side step several hits to my body, but one fateful hit lands in my stomach, and I scream from the pain. It feels like there are a million explosions going off in my chest. I fall over, blood flowing and eyes closing, until finally, I black out.

I would have felt like crying if I heard the cannon that went off afterwards.

**Excuse me while I go cry…**

**And, for the record, this ending part would have been negative twenty percent cooler if I didn't come back and revise it later, so, be thankful for that. xD**

**And, **_**yes**_**, I am making an epilogue. So deal with it.**


	21. Epilogue

**Finnick's POV  
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Usually the dead bodies from the games are used to make mutations or are tested on in District Five. Usually.

But this Hunger Games was the exception. The Gamemakers decided that this is the once-in-a-lifetime chance that the bodies are sent home and they can be disposed of however their respective districts want. Meaning pretty much every district in Panem is having a huge funeral on different days, where everyone is invited. They didn't do it all on the same day so the leaders of each district as well as this year's victor can travel to each, respecting the loss of each and every tribute.

Seeing as this is the first huge funeral in District Four ever since Mom's death, we went all out. The Mayor let us occupy the main stage that is used for the reaping each year for this occasion. We found ribbons, flowers, and anything that could be used to honor Remington and Nimiane. We spent a week straight setting up, making sure that everything is perfect. And it is.

I brush some sand off of white dress shirt – which I last wore for Mom's funeral on the beach, where we set her body afloat. Dad got the day off, as well as the rest of the District, paid, so we are all just trying to be thankful for that without seeming like we're happy about being at a funeral.

I think back to when the Games were going on. It was maybe two weeks, tops. That's probably the shortest games we've had, yet the most eventful. Never has the Bloodbath been so huge, or the features of the arena so intricate. The Gamemakers did make it so weapons would pop up when in need, by means of underground tubes. Nimiane and Remington didn't experience much of that, but others did. How do you think Gleam got his spear, or Gem's dagger? The flood was only to be used if the feast didn't have as great of a result as intended, which happened. It was all clever and unthinkable, making it more surprising and new. The Capitol freaks loved it.

Dad told me all about the time during the Games here. Since I haven't been here for five years during the Games, I usually wouldn't think much of it, but this year was different. There was apparently a different feeling of tension in the air – as well as the feeling that something was up. Three Odairs in a period of twenty years? Definitely not fair.

He told me that Ingrid came over every day, because she was so used to coming over for Nim. Dad was a suitable replacement for Nim in these days, he told me, since Ing wasn't reluctant to shed tears of sadness and dread. She always cried for Nimiane and Remington, and then Remington when he died, and then she lost it after Nim's demise. She's been practically living at our house, just coming over to vent to me and Dad. Not that we weren't used to it before. Now is just much more extreme.

I look up to see if Ingrid even came. _Well, of course she came. It's her two best friend's funeral, isn't it?_

I spot her coming towards us, not sure of where else to go. "Finn," she says, tearing up.

"Hey, we're here to be your shoulders to cry on, aren't we?" I say, looking towards Dad for his approval. He nods a little and I turn back to Ing. "So, please, release the tears if you have to." She nods, turning away to look at the stage.

I look at it as well. It's lined with white water lily flowers, which were Nim's favorite. Remington, being a guy, didn't have a preference according to his family, so we just went with Nim's favorite. The rest of the stage is covered with teal and blue ribbons, with my golden trident that I used in the 65th Hunger Games sitting between two dark wood coffins. I went up there earlier, and Remington and Nimiane were in those two, fully clothed in their getups from the interviews they had to endure. Their hair was styled just like it was only two weeks ago. You wouldn't be able to tell the difference if there weren't scars on Nimiane's arm and dried blood on her thigh and chest. Remington looked perfectly normal, however.

The Mayor steps onto stage with two other people – the man who would be performing the burial ceremony and the victor of the 70th Hunger Games. Scarlett stands with a guilty look on her face, as if Nim's death was her fault. She has on a long, black dress with lace arms and a large, white water lily pinned to her breast in Nim and Remington's honor.

"Without further ado," the Mayor starts, the crowd of thousands hushing in a second, "I'd like to get this program started."

oOo

Did you know that this year, they made a documentary on the tributes this year? They felt like they owed it to my family for taking yet another one of us.

They gathered every permanent record and anything else they could use to get information on them. They talked to family, friends, acquaintances. And they ended up with the most informing piece of film you'll ever see.

Main highlights are that Gleam has four siblings, formerly five. One did, in fact, die in a fire as Gem had said. He had plans to become a teacher before selected to join the games.

Gem comes from a harsh family of former business men that become so wealthy that they could retire when they're thirty years of age. Gem was set to become the heir to her father's business that he didn't want to let go of until she could take over. She once was charged with assault to a innocent child, but got out of it when her father paid the family of the boy more than any family could dream of.

Matilda came from a broken home where her mother died at an early age and her father was an ignorant Peacekeeper. She was raised by her older sister, who was born from a different man. She had always had an interest in combat due to her rough lifestyle brought to her by her lack of parents or funds, so she took up fighting as a good way to get out of things.

Alexx was in training to become a Peacekeeper because of his poor wits and his bad behavior. Both of his parents are teachers at his school and scolded him quite often, pushing him to be something that he wasn't cut out to be.

Scarlett is failing school due to her absences for the Hunger Games and her strict teachers. Otherwise, her life is normal and dandy.

Remington's parents recently declared bankruptcy after his father gambled a large portion of his salary to a coworker, betting his son would undoubtedly win.

Skye's mother died when she was very young, and was abused often while growing up. She was diagnosed with depression and often thought of death and sorrow during her days, according to a close friend. On the bright side, her constant running from her father created a great runner in the arena.

Brant has never had a drop of morphling in his life, but his mother has recently been charged with abuse of drugs and willingly giving them to a minor.

They also unveiled the mysteries that wouldn't be known by most in the arena, like how Matilda and Remington died back to back. Remington was killed by Matilda, who then was eaten by a mutation of someone she formerly knew who died in the Games. The Gamemakers apparently were getting antsy, and they wanted some action, so they added some unexpected mutations to the equation, making two die at nearly the same time.

They also reiterated how Scarlett killed Gleam. This is the main place where the handy-dandy features of the arena came in, since Scarlett heard him coming and realized she didn't have any weapons. When she looked around – _boom_! Sword. Right in front of her, easy to reach, and very useful. Gleam came up behind her, ready to strike, the sword not visible from his spot. She turned and thrust the sword with all of her might, knocking him over. His spear fell out of his hand, so she picked it up, and dropped that and her sword into his chest, piercing his heart and killing him. It was somewhat less climactic than any other end to the Games, but it will have to do.

Do you know who they kept repeatedly talking about during the whole documentary? Nimiane. They practically told the past five years of her life, ever since I made it into the Games. They showed footage of her life. If she had any interactions with a tribute, they said so. They told about Ingrid and Dad and me, because they wanted everyone to know all about Nim.

They felt like they owed us all something.

Because, like we all have once said, three Odairs is just not fair.

**Yeah, so, idea proccess ahoy!**

**And, if you want to give me ideas for my next Hunger Games things, don't be a meanie and make me think about it. _ Just tell me_!**

**And, yeah. Thats it, I guess. Now I shall go cry and eat loads of chocolate icecream, while I'm at it...**


	22. New Story?

**I've decided to continue on with this story, but instead following Scarlett (because I can, that's why). So, I'm in the process of writing the first few chapters, but I just put up the new story, so hopefully it'll be up soon. Yay! So go search for **_**Outcast**_** by myself, and you'll see it eventually. The key word is eventually. If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me (because you guys are awesome and I lack ideas sometimes)! Thanks! :D**


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